Weight 'n Cee

You look mahvelous dahling! How HAVE you been?

2010-03-11T10:14:00.004-04:00

My last post to this blog was 676 days ago. How do you even come up for an excuse for that kind of neglect? And how do you begin to describe what has happened to your life in those 676 days? It smacks of those awkward high school/university/community reunions that seem to be the current rage thanks to social media such as Facebook and Twitter. The look across the room toward someone who looks familiar and you're thinking perhaps from the hall at school, but really its from a picture on someone else's profile page and you've both convinced yourself that you were really great friends 30 years ago in high school. You hug enthusiastically, ask the perfunctory "where are you living now...kids....job?" questions, and try to describe your past 30 years in four sentences or less.

But try I will. So, since May 4, 2008:

I completed that master's degree and am no smarter but I have a wickedly framed piece of paper hanging on the wall of my honking big new office where I work at a job that is with another department all together. Before I even graduated, I thanked the Department that would not promote me back in 2006, applied for and won a competition for a senior position, packed up my boxes and left them. Felt great!

Mom kicked breast cancer's ass! She had the mastectomy in May, returned home and determined to get healthy at 78. She chose radiation over chemo as a treatment. She and Dad travelled here to the city where I live, and became involved with the amazing Lodge that Gives while she underwent a long series of treatments. They chose to stay there instead of with us and embraced this part of their journey as an adventure. I visited regularly and enjoyed seeing my Dad who took everything on with such gusto, tour me around and introduce me to volunteers...other patients....the kitchen staff. He would transport my mom to her treatments, and took care of her with such unconditional love. What an example of love he is to me.

Mom finished her radiation treatments, and then promptly had a heart attack! In November 2008, she was admitted to the ICU and diagnosed with four blocked arteries. Because of her history of diabetes, the proximity to the cancer diagnosis, poor lung capacity and oxygen circulation and other reasons, surgery is not an option. She recovered, and was sent home with oxygen which has become a 18 out of 24 hour per day companion to her.

On April 14 of last year, my amazing dad died of cancer. It snuck up and bit us all on the arse. We had no idea he had it until three weeks before he died. He had been so focused on nursing my mom back to health from her breast cancer, mastectomy and subsequent heart attack that he wasn't paying attention to his own health situation. And although we saw that he was losing weight, that's not always seen as a bad thing in my family, so we probably didn't pay as much attention to it as we could/should/would have. You may remember that HB is a younger version of my Dad, so as long as HB is around, we haven't totally lost sight of who Dad is to us. Dad's death and our journey with him on those last days deserves a post all on its own, and I am committed to doing just that. I love him and miss him every moment of every day, and I wouldn't trade a moment of our crazy life together - even that last day in his hospice room, holding his foot because my mom and sister got his hands - and accompanying HB in song as we sang him home. Yes...Dad deserves a post all of his own.

In the midst of all that, Knothead calls on her cell phone one day to say "by the way, I want to move to Europe in July and take Frodo and Mini-Me with me. You down with that?" What followed was weeks of consultation with lawyers, counsellors, friends and mega soul searching to determine whether it was the right thing to let her take the boys out of the country. HB is indeed so much like my unconditionally loving Dad, and I learned so much about sacrifical love from watching him make this decision. He knew that this experience was something that the kids would never have a chance at again, although it meant that we would not see them in person for at least 12 months, and that they would be living completely under her daily influence. We drove them to the airport on July 1, 2009. They call, skype or email every single day ... and we all miss each other like crazy. We are looking forward to them being home for the entire month of July with us, and are planning a two week trip there for February 2011. Despite the fighting and challenges we faced when they were living here, we have determined that much of it had to do with Knothead, and her misery in her life here. She seems to be in a much better space these days, and I think has realized that the kids were not little arses because of HB's influence on them....that they are just that - kids! She was quite surprised that many of the issues she used to blame on HB mysteriously found their way across the pond in their baggage and reappeared! So...painful as it has been, perhaps this has been good for all of us. The weird thing is that Frodo will turn 15 this summer and Mini-Me 13. I still see them in their little matched sweaters, nose to nose with our dogs in the kitchen. In fact, Barkley towered over Mini-Me! Now they pat the top of my head as they walk by - or at least that's what they were doing before they left. Since I know I've shrunk in height while they were gone, it doesn't bode well for me upon their return this summer! I can't wait.

And finally, but absolutely not the least of what's been happening, is that HB and I continue to grow closer together and more in love. I cannot believe how blessed I am to have this man as my life partner. He always said we could have fun in a ditch together, and these past few years have underscored the truth of that statement. We have journeyed together through the crap and the mud and still managed to find diamonds in those puddles. I love him. Plain and simple.

There is so much more but God love ya for reading this far. I suspect there's not a soul out there that still checks this old blog, but if any of my old blog buds are still out there, please let me know. I have continued to keep up on some of my reading and will be updating my blog list soon. I had forgotten how therapeutic blogging can be!

Quarterly Report

2008-05-04T18:24:00.002-03:00

I guess I'm turning into a quarterly poster! I have to admit to a little distraction called Facebook these days. Plus I've been really focused on finishing up the degree, and we've had some serious health issues in my family that have been taking a significant amount of energy and time.

In January, my father was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis. This brought good news and bad news. The good news was that it could be slow moving, and may have only been picked up because of a case of pneumonia that he had been battling. The bad news was that it could also be fast moving, in which case the prognosis was five years at most. He went for a battery of tests, and was scheduled to go back for the comparison tests on May 1st.

In March, my mother discovered a teensy infection in her right breast. She decided to go have it checked out, and thankfully, her doctor sent her for a mammogram. At 77, Mom has long ago given up having mammograms, paps, and the like. The mammogram showed some lumps in the left breast. The infection was nothing...well, actually it was a blessing. Anyhow, the doctor ordered an ultrasound, which showed more irregularities, so was followed up by a biopsy. By mid April she was diagnosed with invasive lobular breast cancer, and last week underwent a mastectomy. She came home from hospital on the day my father was headed into the specialist for his next round of tests.

Needless to say it was a stressful week - and oh yeah - I had to write an exam in the midst of it all.

I'm happy to report that Mom is recuperating well ... she has a great attitude about it all. Says she's 77, doesn't use 'em anymore and neither does Dad, so take 'em away!

And as for Dad....the doctor said he has seen 28 year olds who couldn't go as long on the treadmill as Dad did last week. Says it's definitely slow moving, if at all moving .... so that's great news!

And me? I got an A- on the exam I wrote, once again proving that I am able to pull useless bits of trivial information to the forefront in a crunch.

And how was your week???

One thing in common

2008-01-16T09:03:00.000-04:00

Lately it seems that I am more aware of mortality. Last night, we attended the wake for a friend's mom, and in the last few months, both of my parents have begun to experience more serious health issues.

I have a friend who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last January, and although barely lucid, is still alive some twelve months later. His illness has given me lots of time to consider that we are all here for such a short time, and that no matter what, death is the one thing we all have in common.

And then just this week, a woman who I have only ever known through an online community lost her battle with cancer. I have been amazed by the outpouring of posts at several sites, and on her blog, about how she impacted people around the world through the internet! She was in constant contact with people by email, telephone, blog posts and message boards - sharing her struggle, her faith, her positive attitude. She was an amazing example of courage, hope and grace.

What mark will I have left on my world? I have never aspired to do big things, but I hope I have done many small things on a daily basis that have made people smile, or feel loved. Most importantly, I guess, is that I am alive today. What can I do with this one day I know I have to make a difference in my world?

Something to think about.

Obligatory End of Year Post #4

2007-12-31T09:37:00.000-04:00

It's hard to believe that I have maintained this blog since August 30, 2004. I have ended each of those years with an obligatory end of year post. In 2004 I basically described our sad little plans for the evening (not very exciting, and I don't think we ever did get that lobster). In 2005 I was quite philosophical and decidingly committed to not bad mouthing Knothead who (surprise surprise) was into drama and shenaningens! In 2006 I actually did do a review of my year and people actually read and commented! How self centered am I?

So here we are, ending 2007. I have had a wonderful year actually. I don't know why I remain amazed at how incredible true love is when you have found the one with whom you are meant to live out your life. I fall a little more in love with HB each day, and this year has been another one of those years.

My job really settled out this year. I returned to my home position, and have been feeling fulfilled and challenged by it. I am very close to finishing the masters program I began in January 2006 - hard to believe!

We have been blessed this year with days of great joy, days of great sorrow, and days of great mediocrity. Every day has been treasured.

I have been reading a book on the Paradoxical Commandments, and at the risk of being completely philosophical here, am going to post these here as a reminder for myself when I reach the obligatory end of the year post in 2008. My hope is that I can remember that these commandments are indeed my calling for every day in 2008.

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.

Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, 2001.

Happy New Year.

Merrying up a bit...

2007-12-22T18:53:00.000-04:00

Ok...less humbuggy today. Frodo and Mini-Me arrived last night. Frodo is wired for sound and that sound is LOUD. Everything is on hi-volume with him. We had a bit of a set-to earlier today, but I have to keep reminding myself that he is almost 13 and therefore cannot help being annoying.

Mini-Me continues to be the apple of my eye. He is turning into the coolest of cool kids! Smart as all get out. Not that he doesn't get annoying at times as well, but because he is so much like HB, we can get it out in the open and be done with it. He wears everything on his sleeve - just like his dad. The other one is too much like his mother and let's face it, HB turned to drugs to cope with her behaviour!

We headed out in separate vehicles to finish up our Christmas stuff today. HB had the kids and I was on my own, mostly because I haven't had a minute to do anything for HB! Funny enough, we ended up at the same mall several hours later and so joined up for lunch. We took the kids into the arcade and let them bat off some steam there, which was fun. Then they came home to play pond hockey and I continued on to finish everything else on my list. Tonight we head out to a party - where kids are welcome! A rare treat since we usually have to turn down invitations on the weekends that they are here with us.

I was watching a story on the news last night that the Salvation Army in our area is down in their campaign by almost $50,000 this year. I stood and watched the kettle for a while at the mall today, and it's true - so many of us out there whizzing by with our dust collecting stocking stuffers in hand, and not stopping to put anything in to help others. For every one person that stopped, I bet there were thirty that didn't. So HB and I made a decision to not buy something we were going to buy today, and put the money in the kettle instead. It feels like the right decision. We have so much, and truly want for nothing. Sure we have money woes, but most of it is because of choices we make.

So yeah...less humbuggy tonight. Keep the reason for the season burning in your heart.

Feeling Humbuggy Today

2007-12-19T18:36:00.000-04:00

Remember when blogging used to be the focus of every day? I do. Odd now that I rarely think to put up a post these days, although I still have a number of blogs that I check regularly. I still feel touched though, when I see comments and realize that people are still coming here wondering about me. Thanks you guys!

We're so close to Christmas ... only another five days really. HB and I will do our usual thing - play guitar and sing at two masses on Christmas Eve, and then head up to my folks' place on the 25th. For the first time since the Christmas before my brother died in 1999, my SIL and niece will also be there. I'm having some mixed feelings about that. Also for the first time ever, HB has asked that we go to his mom's for a bit before heading out to my family's place. His brother, whom I don't really know at all, is going to be there and he wants to spend some time there. Normally this would sound like a reasonable request, but there is a lot of history there with this brother. None the less, we will go for a bit.

Frodo and Mini-Me will come over on the 26th, and we'll do everything all over again. It just works out so much better that way - no stress of trying to cram everything into one day. We got them some pretty cool gifts this year (Guitar Hero III! THE score of the season - I ROCK!) and we're not having a whole truckload of company that day, so I think we'll just relax and enjoy each other and the new games that day.

I'm still struggling a bit with Knothead and her incessant requests for money and help. I believe she thinks we are just a bottomless pit of funds here. Well, today we realized that we do indeed have a bottom to the pit, and we've hit it. She called last night to inform HB that he has to take Frodo to a hockey tournament in another province at the beginning of January, which all together will run about $500, and truthfully, I'm not sure where we're going to come up with the money. I know she's doing it because she doesn't have the money either - but geeze Louise, shouldn't we be being grown up and just tell the kid we're all broke? This teaching kids early how to live beyond their means just doesn't quite seem wise to me but who am I? Just the step mother.

So tonight, I'm sitting with all of our financial transactions for the last six months, summarizing everything, and trying to figure out where we can cut. HB has already made a few comments about haircuts and waxing .... I'm thinking that perhaps we can cut down on the HUGE grocery bills or extra money that goes over to her house before I stop getting my hair cut, or start sporting a unibrow. Sheesh.

Bah humbug ... hehe.

2007-10-03T20:19:00.000-03:00

I haven't been able to shake this feeling of yuck the last few days. It doesn't help that HB has been behaving like a bear. Cranky, grumpy and just generally hard to tolerate. He has moments of being loveable, but they pass.

The thing that is irritating me the most today is that he got madder at the dawg for digging a hole in the backyard than he did at Frodo - who shot a BB through the basement door window! In my mind, you don't get pissed at a dawg for behaving like a dawg - but you do consequence a kid for behaving like a little thug! But nope, not the golden child. He gets no punishment nor consequence. Which is why he is going to grow up to be just like Knothead - believing that he can simply stand still while the world revolves around him.

Drives me crazy.

She has been after us for more and more money. We voluntarily raised the child support last year (the right thing to do), AND the kids are here about 50% of the time. We gave her an extra $600 to help out with start of the year costs, and we bought some of the kids back to school stuff. We also have expenses here for them - we average about $200 a week in groceries because they are here so frequently, and when they go to school from here, we pay for lunches, book orders, etc. Well, Frodo made the A team in hockey which requires a more significant investment. She hinted that she needs help with that. Over my cold, fat body will that happen!

I'm cranky tonight.

Oh yeah. It was one year ago this weekend that we had our last miscarriage. Maybe that's why we're cranky.

The Return of the Bad Blogger

2007-09-18T21:05:00.001-03:00

I am an unbelievably bad blogger! I have been following some of my favourite blogs though, and can't say enough about how happy I am for Ollie and her amazing news! It's bad though, when you're down to one blog post per month. I can remember when I would have to refrain from posting twice in a day!

We've been having some major issues with Frodo and Mini-Me. They turned 12 and 10 this summer, and are truly the products of divorce. I hate to sound like my mother, but I'm going to sound like my mother for a minute when I say that when I was a kid, we'd get our arses kicked for even thinking some of the things these kids do. They are spoiled, abrasive boys with a real sense of entitlement and no sense at all of valuing what they have in this world. It's been a rough summer, and I don't know if we'll survive the adolescent period.

How the hell did I ever think that I could handle a child of my own at my age? I'm trying to picture going through puberty with a kid when I'm in my mid 50's .... yeah .... just can't picture it. Oh how the times have changed. I live in fear of getting pregnant now. Fear I say!

I'll just keep hangin' out with my dawgs, and for the three of you that are still checking in here once in a while, I'm adding some pictures of the most beautiful dawgs in the world for you!

Shifting chairs in the sand

2007-08-01T12:02:00.000-03:00

I'm touched that there is still even one person reading this blog! I have to say it kept me sane for a long time. It's hard to believe how long I've had it going - I think this is the biggest commitment I've ever made and kept!

I'm on vacation this week, and it's been grand thus far. Last week HB and I took off for a few days just on our own. We went to the beautiful island of Cape Breton, where we took in some awesome music, toured a historic fortress, ate some really good food, and walked. A lot. And mostly we decompressed. I hadn't realized how stressed I was feeling. I had even lost my voice over the last two weeks. HB finally said to me Friday night, as we sat eating pizza in our hotel room, that he had been beginning to resent my schedule of late. That's something - coming from the man who is so active I get tired even thinking about it! He said how touched he was that I had made the decision earlier that week to get up from my school work and go to a movie with he and Mini-Me. (It was a no-brainer in my mind...come on....Hairspray....John Travolta in a dress....I wasn't missing it!) But his point was made.

So we're committing to checking our commitments with each other before saying yes. Something we've gotten away from in the last few months. And we've also committed to having HB and Sandy time more often. No kids, no dawgs, no cell phones, laptops or work. Just us.

On the being a barren, childless bag side of life - I was hit with a drive-by the other day! Haven't had that happen in quite a while. We were at a paddling regatta, and there was a woman there with her young son. They were having fun, swimming around and watching the races. Another paddler from our team was sitting beside me and suddenly she said "do you have kids of your own?" - the dreaded question - the one I'm never sure how to answer.

Sometimes I take the time to explain that we tried and failed miserably, but that I do consider that I have had at least two kids that didn't make it fully into the world. Other times I answer that we have two boys through HB. And then there are days like this one where I take what feels like the easy way out...in the moment...and just answer with a simple no. Expecting that will end the conversation.

But Ms. Drive-By pressed on, proceeding to tell me just how very lucky and blessed I am to never have had children. How they get on your nerves and are most often little ingrates, and how hers would never come support her at the regattas......and so on.....you get the picture. Then the little guy at the water's edge screeched, underlining her point and giving her room to say "see how lucky you are? Never had to listen to THAT..."

And I wondered if she could see just how desperately we wanted to listen to "that", or to experience the little ingrates that didn't make it into the world.

HB reached over and took my hand, giving it a squeeze. And without saying a word, I knew that he knew.

So we smiled at her, wished her luck in her next race, and moved our chairs to another location. And only shed one single tear.

We have moved on. Mostly.

Way Too Long....

2007-07-06T18:33:00.001-03:00

See how fickle I am? I find a new addiction in facebook and completely ignore my poor blog. Sue commented and caused me to look at when I had last posted - holy cow - May!

Things are swimming along here. I just had gum surgery the other day and as I sit here typing, the little cast thing that put over the stitches has fallen off. I'm hoping I don't manage to pull the stitches out. I am one of those people that can't keep my tongue out of things that are in my mouth ... I poke and prod and make it way worse than it needs to be.

And that, is about the most excitement I have going on right now! Things are so amazingly boring and stable, it's awesome.

HB and I have been hanging out, falling more in love with each other daily. Frodo is 12 turning on 20 these days and is a real handful, but I know we'll survive. Took them to a play the other night and Mini Me fell asleep during it. Snored throughout the whole last act. I could have crawled out of the theatre in mortification!

My other big news is that I'm planning a trip to Spain in October/November. I'm truly stoked about that - and need to focus on getting a few more pounds off so I can feel comfortable in some nice light summer clothes. We are not going to get a summer here so I have time.

I'm still keeping up on my blogging friends - many are just about ready to give birth, or have already. Life is good for most.

I must remember to update more often. If there's anyone still reading here, leave me a note and let me know how you're doing!

Devil seeds all of them....

2007-05-16T22:20:00.000-03:00

Well, not surprisingly, Mother's Day sucked. It started out with HB's intellectually challenged uncle calling and saying "Happy Mother's Day! Oh wait. Your baby died."

Believe it or not, it went downhill from there.

On Saturday evening HB suggested that we go out together to buy our mothers cards. Harmless enough. When we were getting ready to go, I stupidly asked if Frodo and Mini Me had done anything for their mom, which resulted in a phone call to said devil-seeds, which resulted in us picking them up to take with us. What should have been a $10 trip to the drugstore ended up being a $65 trip to several stores and involved me helping to pick out their mother's day gift for her. Doesn't get much sweeter than that.

But yes it does actually! I had stood my ground and decided that I was not going to be the serving wench for the mother's day dinners that traditionally take place at my parents' house, and had insisted that the mothers come to our house, where we would all go out for dinner. To a new Japanese place near by that has just opened up. Just. As in maybe a week ago.

HB's dysfunctional sister (he has a few) invited herself and her devil-seed along. Actually I like her devil seed. He's cute and he hugs me. By the time we got there, they were seated at the window seats, along with HB's mom. She was drinking beer and sqwacking loudly saying "who picked THIS place? Did you see the prices???"

Although the food was delicious, the kitchen was incredibly disorganized, with meals coming out all haphhazard. The little guy was finished his before our salads even came out - you get the picture. It took us four hours to finish dinner.

Happy Mother's Day. Frodo and Mini-Me didn't even wish me happy evil stepmother day or anything. Good thing I have a sense of humour ... I've needed it the last few days!

Enough of this!

2007-05-07T14:05:00.001-03:00

I've been feeling a bit blue lately and couldn't quite put my finger on why, when I realized that had our last pregnancy continued, I would have given birth in the last few weeks. My due date was April 17th.

Instead, I spent the weekend packing up the remaining maternity clothes that I had tried to give away to my neighbour, into yet another set of bags to give to another friend who is pregnant with their seventh child. Seven kids. Wow.

I don't want to be misunderstood. I'm still really in a good place with not having a child of my own. Just a wee bit blue. The other day I also got thinking about Brodie, and realized that had he lived, we would have a four year old running around this house right now.

And that made me realize how long this has been a part of my life. Amazing.

So this weekend will be Mother's Day, and once again I was facing the prospect of travelling up to my parents' place where I would be the servant girl for the dinner since, you know, I'm technically not a mother but my mother and sister both are.

Enough of that! I've decided to take control of the situation. I emailed my mother and have invited her here for Sunday. I'm also going to invite HB's mother, and tonight I'm telling the men that they are taking all three of us out to dinner at new Tai place that has recently opened.

This Thursday HB and I plan to attend a mass that is being held in memory of all babies who have died before birth - for whatever reason. We've never done that, in the five years since this whole ordeal started. In a very weird way I'm looking forward to it.

Facebook - my new addiction

2007-04-14T11:06:00.000-03:00

Things are good. Nothing major or deep to post about these days. In times gone by, that would have concerned me that my life was so normal I had no crisis. Now I'm totally content with that state of affairs.

I've become incredibly addicted to Facebook . I'm amazed at the number of people you can connect with through this thing - it's a total seven degrees of separation (or whatever that movie was called) event! It's amazing how small a world it really is with the help of the internet.

My Big Fat Boring Life

2007-03-25T08:41:00.000-03:00

Things are moving along in my life in a way that is astoundingly normal. Comfortable. Regular. Ordinary.

I love it.

We've had Frodo and Mini-Me here for the majority of the last four weeks. That's been a combination of their regular time with us, March break, their mother having commitments that has taken her out of town, and them just wanting to be here. It's been really good because it's allowed us to finally settle into a place where we can have our lives go on when they are here. Normally everything stops and the world revolves around them while they're here - but that's not normal living. We have gone through major guilt of not wanting to either go out when they are here because we only have them a few days a week (although by extension, that means so does their mother, right?) or because we're not sure how they will behave if we take them with us wherever we are going. Both ended this past month. We've taken them with us to places that we normally wouldn't, and they've behaved like normal kids. We've had people into our homes and told them that, like other normal families, we'd be chaining them to the wall hooks we had installed in the basement for precisely such an occasion, and they complied willingly.

In short, it feels like we've been a normal family this last month, and it is tres cool. Last night while we were at my parents' place, Frodo actually put his arm around me on the couch. I tried to let on like it was an every day occurrence, but everyone in the room knew it was monumental.

As I said, tres cool.

In other news from my big fat boring life, I'm seeing the finish line for this semester's courses. They've been a huge amount of work - mostly reading and group work - both of which bore me to tears. I have given up on my goal of maintaining an A average, and had to take my well earned "told you so's" from colleagues who are a year ahead of me in the program. I guess every new grad student in this program enters with the "I'm gonna maintain an A average" attitude, and those that have gone before sagely nod their heads while assuring us that this too shall pass. Why, just the other day I found myself counselling a new student in just that manner. Yep. We are counselling our own future to underachieve. Impressive eh?

I hit a plateau with my weight loss journey - 30 lbs and holding. I had sought some nutritional counselling from the fitness coach I've been seeing at the gym, and she told me that my body was storing because I wasn't getting enough protein or complex carbs to support the workout regime I now have. I took that advice to the weight loss center, and asked to be moved to another level of the program that would meet this nutritional need. Now, this is a great program, but a canned one, so here's what happened. They called their nutritionist, who said to move to a program that would give me "one more starch and 1/2 a protein". I was delighted! Finally, an advertisement that was actually true! They do indeed tailor the program to meet your personal needs! I took my new information booklet and ran home to plan out my new meals.

Imagine my surprise when I did the math. Why yes, I did indeed have a new half circle under the protein column, but all it was good for was colouring in. Let's take chicken as a protein example. Under my old program, I could eat 16 oz of chicken in a day and call that 2 exchanges of protein as each exchange of chicken was 8 ounces. Under the new program, with 1/2 an exchange more of protein, I could eat 14 oz of chicken in a day and call that 2 1/2 exchanges of protein. Why? Because although I had an "extra 1/2 of a protein", the protein size was reduced!

Well, I'm right S-M-R-T and caught onto that quick like!! I'm still kind of blown away that they think we're fat AND stupid.

Anyhow, I realized that I'm not going to break this plateau unless I follow the nutritional advice I'm being given by a nutritionist who has nothing to gain from me financially. I decided to put this program on hold, and pick up my old WW materials. This allows me to stay within a reduction range while at the same time making my own choices of protein and carbs. I've already dropped another 3 lbs just in the week that I've been following this new plan, and let me tell you......skim milk never ever tasted so good! I didn't realize how much I missed having a wider choice of dairy. Under the other program I could only have 1 dairy exchange per day, so by the time I ate my yogurt and had cheese with my melba toast, that was gone!

And finally, last Sunday HB proved once again why I completely and absolutely adore him. We were out at a function where people were sharing their experience of a weekend they had just completed. One of the guys was speaking, and he looked at his girlfriend, who was standing at the back of the room and said "all I can tell you is that you and I are going to be the happiest couple in the world", which of course put all the women in the room into a swoon.

But none swooned as much as I did ... because HB, without missing a beat, leaned into me and said "how can that be, when we already are?".

I do love that man!

Oh the excitement. It just never ends at Casa Dawg!!!

Handing it over.....

2007-03-14T14:10:00.000-03:00

Last time I blogged, I mentioned that I had an appointment made to discuss a tubaligation. And I did have an appointment. What I didn't say was that the appointment wasn't with a medical professional, but rather with my parish priest. Although I am firmly decided that I no longer wish to become pregnant, I have still been struggling with the whole concept of taking surgical action to prevent pregnancy.

I am a practicing member of the Catholic religion, but more importantly to me, I am a Christian person. There are many, many things about the formal teachings of the Catholic Church with which I struggle, and many with which I just plain don't agree. I don't condemn anyone who chooses to whole heartedly believe in the teachings of the Church, but personally I am one of those Catholics that does tend to question. Not outwardly so much, as inwardly .... in my private moments with the God of my own understanding, and occasionally with friends who are ordained priests or deacons.

I believe in God. I believe in the example of Christ and I wake up every day, determined to be able to discern what God's will for me is that day. I want to be the best person that I can be, and to carry out the actions that He is calling me to take that day.

For the longest time after we lost Brodie, I was consumed with becoming pregnant again. I would go to Mass, sit and pray very specific prayers. I wanted to become pregnant .... carry to term .... and have a healthy baby of our own. Nothing short of that would do as answered prayer.

Slowly I began to understand that I needed to look at how I was praying. And I realized that I was completely praying for MY will to be done. With great struggle, I fought to hand that over, and instead to pray for the knowledge of God's will for HB and I with regard to biological children of our own.

When I became pregnant again this past summer, I was surprised. I really felt that I had already received the answer to my revised prayer - that we were not intended to have children of our own. So this pregnancy was a blip in my understanding.

HB has tremendous faith in God. He is an amazing example of faith in action to me. He encouraged me to be happy about the pregnancy, and to continue to wait to understand what God's will was for us.

Now this next part is what gets dicey because of course, that pregnancy ended in miscarriage as well. What amazed me was that this time, I understood that I had indeed been shown God's will for us. Of course we were deeply saddened by the miscarriage, but somehow there was a difference in the aftermath this time. There was a certain peacefulness. I can't even begin to explain it in a way that makes sense to anyone - even myself sometimes. I still can't talk about losing Brodie without crying, and trust me, I felt no less connected to and happy about this last pregnancy. Yet my reaction is completely different this time.

I don't for one moment believe that the God my understanding is a hurtful or vengeful God that intends for me to continously experience the physical and emotional pain of death through miscarriage. But my physical body is still capable of achieving pregnancy, and so as long as we continue to not take precautions, there is the physical chance that I will again become pregnant....remote though it is.

Thus the struggle within myself regarding taking surgical steps to prevent that pregnancy. We've discussed other methods, but to be honest, HB is not interested in vasectomy; neither of us are interested in condoms and all that entails; I can't do the pill without a whole bunch of side effects that drive me up the wall. We won't even talk about the one time I tried to use the sponge and ended up in at my doctor's on an emergency basis to have it removed, ok?

So I really kind of felt like my options were limited. Yet, there was something not sitting right with me. And I was fighting it because I didn't want to believe that little old radical me was succumbing to what I have always maintained is a man-made teaching of a patriarchial church.

I really like our parish priest. He's young, somewhat traditional, but has a good sense of humour and openness about him. We've had him over for supper and hung out with him a few times, and he was with us when we lost this last baby. I felt comfortable to speak openly with him about my struggle.

He gave me no advice. He did lead me through some dialogue, though, that has caused me to decide to leave it alone for now .... and trust.

I'm terrified. But I do believe, and I do trust. So for now, my decision has been made. No surgery.

This, my friends, is a huge leap of faith for this control freak.

I'm ready for 9 to be over

2007-03-04T08:51:00.000-04:00

I am a terrible stepmonster. We have Frodo and Mini-Me here every Thursday evening, and then every other week they hang around for the weekends. Mini-Me is going through the terrible period that kids go through at age 9, of turning into the demon seed. I have to stop regularly and remind myself that this behaviour comes with being nine years old. I am so ready for 9 to be done. Frodo is 11 now, and is a nice, reasonable person. I know that this too shall pass as he heads toward the hormone dripping teen years - but for now, I'm hanging onto the adorableness of 11 with him and drawing strength from remembering when I was ready for his 9 to be over too.

And then I realize that while Mini-Me has turned into the demon seed, I have turned into my parents. I have long, drawn out discussions with HB where I insist that I never behaved like this at age nine. And I hear my father's voice in my head, reminding me of how he walked barefoot in the snow to school. Uphill. Both ways. Dragging his six siblings behind him in a sled lined with aluminum foil and heated rocks.

It is in the solitude of Sunday, when Frodo and Mini-Me have left the building, that I feel some gratitude for not having children here full time. I know that stepmonstering is a different ballgame because there's all the other stuff that goes along with it. The "you're not my mother" glares. But I'm not convinced that we wouldn't be going through this very same stuff if I was their mother and they were here with us full time.

Which makes me realize that I am indeed too old and cranky to be anyone's mother. I turned 44 two weeks ago.

I have an appointment on Tuesday to discuss tubaligation. I'm seeking some counsel on it from a trusted source before I move to speaking to my doctor about it. It feels like the biggest and most final move I've ever considered making. For me, it's huge.

Hand me back my head please....

2007-02-19T22:43:00.000-04:00

I think that, after years of having relatively stress free times, PMS has set in at Casa Dawg. What else can explain my turning into the she-bitch from hell this last week?

I have been ultra-sensitive to the least little comment. Everything that HB said was subject to interpretation and analysis. On Saturday morning I was leaving for a meeting, and as I was getting ready to go, I called out "bye" to HB and the kids. No answer. I chortled out a second time - still no answer. I became demonically possessed at that point, screeching out to myself (since obviously no one was listening) "byyyye Sandy....have a GREAT day!" and punctuating my response to myself with a massive slamming of the front door on the way out.

I immediately felt remorse - even before I had my truck backed out onto the road. So, when my cell phone rang 10 minutes later, I sheepishly answered. HB said he was on his way out from the kitchen to give me a kiss goodbye before my head started spinning around and doors started slamming.

This is but one example of what our week here was like.

It has been suggested by several in the know that perhaps I am entering a perimenopausal state, explaining the completely screwed up hormones. I have also been incredibly forgetful and this last week's period lasted longer than any I've ever had. Ever.

Hmmm....any good news? Well, I've hit the 30 lb loss mark. I am officially able to buy in the normal size person clothing stores now, and celebrated that this weekend by buying three new outfits. One even has a belt. A belt! Do you know how long it's been since I've worn a belt?

Oh yeah. I gave away all my maternity clothes this weekend. And felt really ok with doing that.

Carry on while I go await the next mood swing.

Reverse Fertility Ass-vice (literally)

2007-02-09T10:54:00.000-04:00

Couldn't resist posting this one....sorry.

My sad little life...

2007-02-07T21:41:00.000-04:00

I am one of those annoying people that keeps her old calendar from one year to the next. We have one calendar in the kitchen that holds all the various appointments, band gigs, rehearsals, visits from friends, basketball and hockey practices for Frodo and Mini-Me. I also have one up here in my office that holds my school assignment deadlines, personal appointments, family milestones, birthdays, and other celebrations.

In my commitment to decluttering, I threw both of these out - right in the garbage. And Murphy's Law has prevailed.

I need them back.

I took the Banana to the vet today as she was scheduled to be spayed. You may recall that when she arrived on a Thursday in October, I immediately made an appointment for the following Wednesday for her spay procedure, only to be foiled by an unexpected experience of having a Newf in heat on our hands! The procedure obviously had to be cancelled, and we got the treat of putting maxi pads on a large dawg for several weeks.

So we waited the requisite number of weeks and dropped her off today at 8:00 a.m. I arrived at work at 9:00 a.m., and had a call from the vet at 9:15 a.m.

The pre-op tests indicated that she is going back into heat and so they could not perform the spay. Now, I don't mind an overachiever, but two heats in less than three months is a bit much there Mz Fanna Banana!

When I went to pick her up at the end of the day, the vet and I got chatting. As we did the math backwards, we're now wondering if indeed she is going into heat, or still not far enough out of her last heat.

And of course, I don't have my calendars so I can't swear to her end date.

Because yes, pathetically, I was reduced to even tracking my dawg's periods on the calendar.

I have a sad little life ..... just sad. Can you beat that?

Eight Years Ago Today

2007-01-30T20:33:00.000-04:00

Eight years ago today, my brother committed suicide. I cannot believe that much time has passed. I am now almost two years older than he was when he forever froze himself at age 42. Sometimes on this day, I feel tremendous sorrow, but today was a day filled with counting my blessings and remembering the good times I had with my brother.

I do feel sorrow at what he has missed though. He would have loved HB...and I hate that he never had the chance to see me truly happy. He also would have loved that his wife finally left the job that caused them so much anguish....and to see how cool his now 16 year old daughter has turned out. He would have been so proud to know that his oldest daughter is in love with an incredible man, and that they have made a beautiful life together. He would have adored Big Dawg, and would be equally in love with the Banana Girl we have now. I miss him, and can't even begin to fathom what it has to be like to be in a place that is so desperate, ending your life is the only viable option.

Hug your family today. Just do it. Love them and keep them close. Savour every moment of your time with them, and if you have petty disagreements, forget them. Move on and get over it. Life is far too short. Join me in counting blessings.

Every Journey Has To End Somewhere

2007-01-21T12:10:00.000-04:00

I've posted on a few blogs lately and found myself actually admitting that infertility has kicked my ass and won. It's true.

The fight is over for me. In fact, over to the point that I am now thinking I need to speak to my doctor about preventing pregnancy. Ironic, no?

The fact of the matter is that in a few short weeks I will be turning 44 years old. I have decided that I although I would love to experience pregnancy, I am not sure I'm ready to adapt to having a baby. I know it's a true miracle when a baby actually results from a pregnancy, but the reality is that is always a possible outcome when one does manage to become pregnant.

Even HB has admitted in the last few months that he enjoys his peace and quiet, and the freedom that we have when Frodo and Mini-Me go back to their mother's house.

I know I've said before that I'm done with this journey, but somehow this time, it feels real. I still haven't fully taken the step to connect with the doctor about prevention, but I think I will be doing so soon.

So it's probably time to remove me from your fertility related blogroll. I'll probably continue to blog, but about far more mundane matters. Like the previous post. And since you're obviously hanging on the edge of your seat about my basement declutter outcome, I'll let you know. It's still in exactly the same shape. We haven't moved a thing. There. Feel better?

I might blog about the loves of my life - my dawgs. In fact, expect that. And I will still obsessively stalk people like Ollie and Julia and Julianna and DinoD and Tiff - all for different yet common reasons. Different in terms of what their current paths are, but common in that these women have inspired, journeyed, cried and laughed with me over the past few years. I'll also regularly haunt people like Cecily and Sarah because I really do want to be their friends in real life and live in awe of their tattoos which I've always been too chicken to get myself.

I also might blog about my new interest in healthy living, and the fact that I've lost almost 30 lbs and 16.6 inches since joining the gym. Count on me regularly talking about my amazing husband and how gobsmacked I remain that we managed to find each other in this big world and so late in our lives, and how eternally grateful for that I remain.

But I suspect my blogging about baby desires are over. It's been a blast.

DeCluttering in the New Year

2007-01-12T11:28:00.000-04:00

It's only 12 days into the new year, and yet it seems like Christmas was forever ago! We're back into the routine here at Casa Dawg.

Classes have started again, and both the ones I'm taking this semester seem pretty interesting. They also don't appear to be hugely work laden, and for that I am grateful.

The weight loss journey has slowed down a bit, but there have been no gains. That's good news I guess. I'm still enjoying working out and will be using the six personal fitness coaching sessions that HB bought me for Christmas to keep me going with the coach until the summer. My goal is to be able to join him in competitive paddling this summer. I can actually feel a muscle developing in my leg. It is such a foreign feeling to me that I actually thought it was a knot that needed to be massaged out. I'm enjoying this working out stuff so much that I actually feel I'm letting down the fat girls don't exercise club I've been president of most of my life. Strange sensation this enjoying getting healthy.

We've also been focusing on decluttering the house. I have never in my life known anyone that can collect as much clutter as we do here in Casa Dawg. No, that's not true. Once I helped a friend clean out the home of his elderly grandparents after the grandfather passed away. He had been on the maintenance staff of a local university, and had made it his habit to bring home anything that students left behind when they vacated their dorm rooms. And I do mean anything. There was a basement apartment in their home that was literally stacked floor to ceiling with stuff. Just stuff. Literally stacked - no lying here. There was a path through the stuff to get to the back of the apartment, but you didn't know what all was in there. The same was true for his garage. I swore we were going to find a Studabaker under all the stuff in the garage.

HB is an amazing stuff collector. Prior to moving in here, he had been storing his stuff in one of those rented lockers. On the day of his move here, he arrived quite excited saying "I had a couch! Who knew???" Apparently, there it was, under all the stuff. Quite a nice couch too.

So today, my sister will arrive to take some of our stuff home to her place, to add to her stuff. I'm hell bent that we will not replace this stuff with more stuff. I finally have the rec room in a place where we can have company and not feel embarrassed. HB has promised me that this weekend, he is going to go through the basement and finish tossing out stuff. I'll be away on a girls weekend. We'll see how it goes.

In the meantime, here is the "during" picture of the journey to declutter HB's basement. I really really wish I had taken a before picture. I'm sure you wouldn't believe it!

The Obligatory End of Year Post

2006-12-31T14:57:00.001-04:00

Ahhhhh......the tail end of 2006. It was the best of times....it was the worst of times....

Actually, it really wasn't the worst of times. Reflecting back on the year, I'd have to say it was pretty good overall. We have become very skilled at living in and appreciating the moment - one day at a time.

So...the year in review.....

We've become stronger as a couple.
I've made and acted upon my decisions to become healthier in all domains of my life.
I have assertively dealt with the bullshit at work and had myself moved out of the unhealthy position I was placed in, so that makes my work life much happier.
I joined and have successfully worked a weight loss program, and am now only 19 lbs away from my goal.
HB and I are working out four to five times a week together - accomplishing two things at once - me actually getting to the gym and spending time with my awesome husband.
I am officially half way through the master's program I began in January 2006, and thus far have a straight A average.
We've spent more time with family and friends this year, and plan to continue to make that a priority.

So all in all, not bad. Not bad at all. May sucked with having to make the decision to put Big Dawg to sleep. Then there was the whole miscarriage in October thing. But even that seemed to have a lesson in it for us. I feel pretty confident now that I don't want to get pregnant again, and also pretty confident that we are exactly where we are intended to be with parenting. I believe we are meant to be here for Frodo and Mini-Me ... something big feels like it's brewing there. And I'm very ok with it all.

And as for our houseguest? HB and I had decided that we were going to ask her to give us a few days here by ourselves when she returned on the 28th, and also that we were going to have a conversation about what her plans were for January and beyond. We rehearsed and practiced - encouraging each other to feel ok but not enabling her to avoid dealing with the real world any longer. HB broached the subject with her when she arrived back here that evening, and her response was simply that she didn't want to talk about it. He told her that he was giving her fair warning that the conversation would indeed take place in a few days.

We left the house at about 9:30 a.m. the next day and she was still in bed. When we got home in the afternoon, there was a card on the kitchen table that had the precise amount of money we had given to her for her airline ticket (which we had intended as a Christmas gift), along with a note. The note basically said that she hoped we didn't think she wasn't appreciative of everything, and that she was giving us some time alone. At first we thought, "how nice". Then we realized that she had packed up every one of her belongings and simply left. We figured out that she is another sister's but there has been no contact at all with us. She still has our housekey, we're not sure what her plans are at all, and we've been denied the opportunity of a discussion with her about it. I just hope she isn't planning to simply waltz back in here now.

It bothers me that she just left like that with no chance for us to talk about what our thoughts were. Who knows what she's thinking or feeling about the whole situation. HB tells me not to worry about it - that she this behaviour is passive-aggressive and this is just another way of her avoiding confrontation....even though we had no intention of being confrontational. We just knew that we had to have a discussion that would have an end date attached to it. It was starting to take too large a toll on us to have a third party in our home and in our marriage all the time.

Another lesson learned in 2006 - HB and I are totally an old married couple now! We understand each other's needs and wants so well we don't even have to talk about it, and when the apple cart is upset, ain't no one happy! Is it bad to be that set in our ways?

So....tonight we will travel up to my parents' place and hang out with them for the new year's celebration. We'll eat chinese food and play silly games. We'll watch my father and HB love each other up and laugh at them together. And we will be thankful for yet another year together, happy, healthy, in love with life and each other.

Happy new year to you.

About that fish?

2006-12-17T19:55:00.000-04:00

We finally have our house to ourselves - if even for a few days! Our perpetual company went back to her family for the holidays. Her ticket was our Christmas gift. Oh yeah, it was a gift to her too!

Even HB had to admit that the constant presence was beginning to drain him. His way of relaxing is to hang out on the couch in the living room and watch continuous Star Trek with no one .... I repeat no one speaking to him for a few hours. He has a little ritual. He hasn't been able to engage in that ritual since August.

Needless to say, we are enjoying doing some of the things we haven't been able to do since August. We went out to dinner by ourselves. We went to the theatre. We got up early and sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and not saying a word to each other. He watched Star Trek until his ears got pointy today.

She's scheduled to come back on the 28th, but HB and I have had enough conversation now to know that we have to set some boundaries. Among those boundaries are some pretty basic things like, let's see:

buy your own shaving cream and do not use my razor
if you're not going to pay rent, then at least begin to kick in on the groceries once in a while
there's a tv in your room - let us introduce you to it
if you're home doing nothing all day, stop it and look for a job!

And most importantly, we're going to have the discussion about how long she plans to stay. We never intended this to be a semi-permanent thing. I have been feeling fairly unChristian about this whole thing, and that's no good. You know that whole my castle is your castle thing? I don't think it was meant for a small semi-detached castle that already has two adults, two growing kids and two very large dawgs in it.

In other news ... still going to the gym and loving it. I'm down 25 lbs as of last week, and loving that! Successfully finished up another semester in the graduate program and completed two exams this past week. Also hosted a full Christmas dinner for 10 people last weekend, got the tree bought, put up and decorated - all in one day.

I'm almost Martha Frickin' Stewart these days.

Keep the change

2006-12-03T23:01:00.001-04:00

Today was my mother's 76th birthday. They live about an hour from us, and we don't see them nearly often enough. We drove up today to spend the day with them, and loved every minute of it. We always do. In truth, I think I've married my father. HB is a younger version of Dad. They are like two little boys when they get together - laughing and telling jokes, carrying on. They just bring out the best in each other, and I love to watch it.

There is a part of me that is terrified at the thought of losing my parents. They are both getting so old and it seems to be happening too quickly for me. They have both really aged since my brother's death in 1999 - that was an emotional aging. The kind of aging we're seeing now is totally related to chronological aging. Mom is getting very forgetful. We tease her about it, and she teases herself about it, but it's so hard to watch.

I know that we all face it. The people who were so strong, so sure, so confident, so loving to us are becoming old and preparing themselves to leave this world. I want to drink in every moment with them. I want to remember the good times, and honour them by being the woman they raised me to be. I want to create more good times with them.

My sister suggested that we have Christmas dinner at her house this year and thankfully, no one picked up on it. We're still going to go to Mom and Dad's and do our usual family thing there. Mom doesn't do as much as she used to anymore, by design. She cooks the turkey and supplies dessert. We bring everything else to cut down on the work and to avoid exhausting her. So I'm sure my sister thought she was making a good suggestion - but I'm not ready for that change yet.

I want my little world to stay the way it is for now. I want to keep my head in the sand and pretend that it will always be this way. Just let me stay there for a while longer.

Amazing Myself

2006-11-28T22:48:00.000-04:00

So....I joined a gym.

And I love it.

I joined because HB is a big fitness nut, and we were looking for some way to increase our time together. I've been on a weight loss program since July, temporarily stalled when I was pregnant. I've lost 20 lbs in total since joining, but knew that sooner or later, I was going to have to introduce some exercise.

I hate exercise.

Have always hated exercise.

Did I mention how surprised I am, therefore, that I love going to the gym?

I never cease to amaze myself!

Blessed are they....

2006-11-19T09:00:00.000-04:00

I've had to tell nine people that I am no longer pregnant this week. Nine people! And those are always the hardest ones to tell, because they get the whole face crumple look going, and then I end up comforting them, doing the "of course, how could you have known?" thing.

Well, part of how perhaps they could tell is that by now, I would have been 18 weeks pregnant. I know I'm overweight, but I did hit the 20 lb loss mark this week. I'm tucking my shirts into my jeans again. I'm into my jeans again! That's a stand alone statement right there. I do not look like a woman who is 18 weeks pregnant right now.

HB's band played this weekend. One of the other guys in the band is married to one of the most delightful, wickedly funny women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Any time we get together is a fun time - she's one of those dance like no one's watching chicks. I love her. This weekend was no exception. In fact, even though I don't drink, she and I got into Cosmopolitans in fancy martini glasses Friday night. I couldn't figure out what was going on with my tongue Saturday morning as I dragged my arse out of bed at way too early to go to a meeting. First time in years I've had to deal with a hangover. Made me remember why I don't drink actually.

Our Sunday was intended to be a full day of rest. Both of us are exhausted, and had even decided to skip Mass this morning. That plan was waylaid by the hot water heater. It gave up the ghost, but not before leaking all night long. Under the sub floor and stairs and into the rec room where the perpetual guest is currently living. So this morning was spent completely cleaning out the basement, pulling up carpet, and replacing the hot water heater.

Luckily for us, one of the guys that plays in the band with HB is a plumber. In fact, he's a famous plumber. His picture has made the rounds on the internet many times since he decided to do this to his truck.

Anyhow, he came over mid morning and installed the new one for us. We are very fortunate to have friends like him. Now we will need to lay new flooring in the rec room, making it the nicest room in our whole home. Ironically we were just approved for a consolidation loan on Friday, completely clearing up our line of credit and credit cards, so we have room to deal with this issue. As we were mopping up this morning, someone made a reference to Katrina victims, and it knocked it totally into perspective for me. Yes, I'm tired but this is a minor inconvenience that is actually going to result in us finally getting to a renovation we intended to do all the time anyhow. We are blessed with a nice home, good friends, family, health and happiness. Life at Casa Dawgs - I like it. I think I'll keep it.

We will survive.....

2006-11-11T20:13:00.000-04:00

anything in this marriage. Of that I am now certain.

We have survived and thrived through:

addiction
loss of faith
five miscarriages
deaths
physical injuries
job problems
weight gain
weight loss
family members living with us
a psycho ex-wife from hell
blending a family

and now.....painting. In case I have never mentioned it before, HB is a perfectionist. And apparently, much to my shock and surprise, I am not. I am not great at cutting in, rolling, or keeping the coloured paint off the ceiling or trim (picky picky picky people). I am, however, very good at painting closets, which is great because that's where I spent the last hour of our painting excursion. In the walk in with the door closed and my cup of Tim Horton's, sitting on the floor, pretending I was cutting in for the final coat.

And to his credit, when HB told me he couldn't help it, that he had to put on two more coats over my first rolled coat, he said "please don't ever forget that you live with a perfectionist who always ends up pissing and moaning his way into doing all the work himself because no one can live up to my standards, so this is NOT about you, ok?".

He then proceeded to take the blame for every splotch of Sudan Sand that was on the ceiling and/or the baseboard trim. And made me love him even more, if that's possible.

It helps immensely that SIL (I am going to have to nickname her here soon) took the cues this week, packed a bag and went out to their other sister's place for the weekend. We all needed the break from each other.

Now excuse me while I go love up my husband.

Fish and Dawgs

2006-11-09T06:45:00.000-04:00

It's been an interesting and sometimes rough few weeks here at Casa Dawg. HB's sister is still living here with us, and it looks like it might be for a while longer. She is taking ownership of an interesting and new franchise here in our area, and just this week, her loans were partially approved.

Her husband and kids are in their home province, but have the house on the market and will likely join her. Not in our basement, mind you!

In the meantime she is here. Although I've often joked that I would love to have a wife, I have to tell you it's highly overrated.

Our schedule is such that we often don't get around to eating supper until about 7 p.m. here. But since she's home, she prepares supper in the early afternoon. Now HB is a teacher so he can manage to get home by 4 or 4:30 if he wants to do so. I, on the other hand, don't technically finish work until 4:30 or 5:00, and then have a 45 minute drive through traffic. I also have at least one, sometimes two, errand stops on the way home, given that we live outside the city and away from most services like grocery, retail, etc.

You get the picture. I get home - the dishes are done, they've both eaten, and whatever she's cooked is sitting cold and dried up for my supper, which I eat alone.

That is just one example. I love her but as someone said in reply to an earlier post about this very topic (remember - she joined us here in August and left to go home for three weeks only), company is a lot like fish. I totally get that now!

We hit the wall over the past few days. I am generally one of the most easy going people you will ever meet, but I turned into Holy Hannah from Hell this week! HB and I had one of the most spectacular fights that will ever be witnessed in this house - complete with slamming doors, yelling, and mucho cursing. The kids were here to witness it. The dawgs were here. And the SIL was here.

It worked itself out, but resurfaced on Monday morning. I was in the shower and not once, but twice, the water went on me. Once due to a toilet flush and once due to a kettle being filled for tea. We have a cardinal rule in this house. Do. Not. Flush. When. The. Shower. Is. Running.

Just Don't.

I thumped and screeched, and when I came downstairs to get my coffee, asked which of them would like to get in the shower next so I could return the favour....and we were off to the races again!

I left the house storming that morning, driving to work mentally pushing pins into the matching brother and sister voodoo dolls I had created. The phone rang. It's HB. Telling me he's sorry, it's out of control, and that he loves me. I begin to cry at the stupidity of it all.

We had dinner alone together Monday night and had a great, healing talk. We are both still grieving, and haven't been allowing ourselves to do so. We haven't allowed ourselves a minute to breathe, let alone grieve.

We have made a pact to one night per week, alone together, as a priority. And I have told him that there are things he has to tell his sister - I know they don't bother him but they do bother me and I can't say them to her. Right or wrong, woosy or whatever - I'm not doing it and he is. And he agrees that he can start by modelling respect for me around here and her - by demonstrating that I have a very important place in his life and in our home, and that she is not the wife.

So it's been a better week, but the road getting here sucked.

In the meantime, Anna Banana is doing well. Training up alright - although she has behaviours we're not used to dealing with as we haven't had to in so long - like chewing. It's just puppy behaviour, but it takes some readjustment. Plus the fact that she's choosing to chew on HB's old running shoes, which does not make her breath the sweetest!

Here she is:

Standing at the door - remember she's 10 months old!

I'm Baaaaack

2006-10-28T21:06:00.000-03:00

I went back to work on Monday. What a weird experience. I've been on assignment in another program area for over a year now, and it has not been a great experience. Interesting that this assignment is with an all women team, and yet only one actually came up to me and dealt with the miscarriage face on. The rest, including the team lead, didn't even say welcome back, I'm sorry, kiss my arse ... nothing.

My home team, which is primarily made up of men, sang a whole different tune. I was greeted warmly, welcomed back, asked how I was doing, and offered appropriate words of condolence.

Now - I have not been enjoying this assignment, and when it seemed (just for a nano second of insanity) that I might be leaving on a maternity leave at some point in the not too distant future, I went to my former team lead to ask how to go about securing my real job as the one that I would be returning to after the maternity leave. He suggested that we make a move to have me actually finish up the assignment now, so that I would be leaving from my home program area, and therefore returning to my home program area at the end of the maternity leave.

Well, we all know what happened to the need for said maternity leave. However, when I returned to work on Monday, my home program team lead came up to me and told me that I was still welcome to come back right away if I wanted.

If I wanted? I could have kissed that man! Not only had he dealt with all the senior administration about ending my current assignment, he found me an office (an OFFICE...no more cubicle dwelling!) and provided me with a carefully thought out description of the new assignment upon which I will be working. And it all starts on November 1st. November 1st! TWO more days in that other assignment!

I actually quite enjoyed the team and the team lead on this other assignment, and the work was very good work. There was just a huge communication issue about what the intended outcomes of the project I was working on were to be - and consequently I would file reports that no one would read, but everyone wanted results. I have to take responsibility for some of what happened, and have done so, but I'm really just wanting it to end. I am not feeling productive, challenged, stimulated or part of a team. I'm keen to go back to my program division, and to reunite with my home team.

I have also taken to treating myself to regular therapeutic massage. La-ti-da! We switched our health plan coverage from my work to HB's work plan, and part of his benefit package provides for 20 massages per 12 month period. That's one every three weeks, if you're counting, which I was indeed doing. But first, I had to use up the four remaining massages that were available under my plan! So I have been having a weekly massage since the miscarriage.

And as for Anna Banana? She is amazing. In no physical way could a person consider this 90 lb beauty a pup, but she is indeed a pup. She is almost scarey smart - trains so quickly. We adore her.

I had gained 4 lbs during the pregnancy. I went back to my weight loss program almost immediately after the miscarriage, and had only kept one of those pounds. That plus four more are now already gone. I'm on a roll - I feel healthy and in control.

So all in all, life is good here. One day at a time, and no more talk of babies. Not doing anything to actively prevent it - but I have a feeling that I don't have to worry about that anyhow. Now if I can just stay away from the Halloween chocolate bars this weekend, my life will be perfect.

Beating the odds

2006-10-19T12:57:00.000-03:00

I live on a small cul de sac. There are precisely twelve duplexes (or semis as we call them) on this cul de sac. Three of the women who live in these twelve duplexes are newly pregnant. One of these women lives in the other side of our house. She had loaned me a book on pregnancy when we shared our news with her. Yesterday I propped that book, along with a gift card that I had "earned" from a local maternity clothing store the day I went on my optimistically stupid shopping trip, in between her two doors. I know the statistics for healthy pregnancies. Please let all three of these women beat the odds. Please. Is that too much to ask?

And now onto something completely different and totally awesome! Take a gander at the wee one that will be joining our happy crew here as of tomorrow at around lunch time:

Her name is Anna, and she is only five months old in this picture, which was taken in May 2006. She is in her 10th month now and from what I am told by my sister in law, who is bravely driving her from Newfoundland in her little car, is a real piece of work. Reminiscent of our Barkley boy.

I believe she will have to be christened Anna Chiquita Banana. Anna is far too formal.

What if?

2006-10-16T16:44:00.000-03:00

I've been debating about whether to blog about my mind quandry or not - but then realized that to not blog about it is to deny myself the true avenue this blog is intended to be for me.

HB and I consider ourselves to be people of great faith. We believe in God, and believe that God will not give us any more than we can handle. Some people call it fate; others call it destiny. For us, what happens in our lives that is out of our control is what we call part of God's plan for us.

We have always chosen to believe that our recurrent miscarriages are part of God's plan for us. And not in a "you guys are awful and don't deserve to have children" kind of way. I have been actually been feeling some guilt because I think I'm not feeling sad enough about this loss. When I expressed that to HB the other day, he told me that he believes I'm more at peace with this baby's death because I have indeed been asking to know God's will for me, and more importantly, to be able to accept God's will for me. And I do believe that had this baby been born, it might have been more than we could have handled - and God's plan says we're only going to be given what He knows we can handle.

So that faith and trust helps us to deal with this current loss.

But therein also lies my quandry.

I'm soon going to be 44 years of age, and had pretty much come to grips with the fact that I was not going to be pregnant or a biological mother....and I was starting to be pretty ok with that reality. Then this unexpected pregnancy comes along - which tells me that my body is still capable of conceiving, and who knows, maybe even capable of actually carrying to term. So if HB and I continue in our usual ways (and I do love continuing in our usual ways....hehehe), there is a possibility of conceiving again unless one of us either deals with it surgically or we decide to practice some form of birth control.

I have no qualms at all with ignoring the man made laws of the Catholic Church when it comes to birth control, so I'm probably one of those hypocritical Catholics that people love to talk about. I am a Catholic because my parents are Catholic. There are many things about Catholicism that I disagree with, and many traditions and beliefs of the Catholic faith that I love and in which I take great comfort. I am first and foremost a Christian. I believe that if I get up every day and live my life the way that God calls me to live - and use Christ as my human example of what that call is - then I am living out my baptismal promise here on earth even if I never step forth in a formal church again. It's more important to me to be church in the real world - the world in which I live every day - and be straight in my relationship with the God of my understanding, then it is to be known as someone who was a good Catholic.

If I believe that God has a plan for me, and I believe that God won't send us more than we can handle, then I really don't see how I can mess with His plan by using birth control of any kind. If I'm not intended to be a biological mother, I will not be ... whether that's through never conceiving again, or continuing to conceive and miscarry. But what if....just maybe....we are intended to conceive and give birth to the person who is going to bring about world peace? Or who is going to save a life someday? Or is going to have even just one gift to share with this world? What if? Is it our place to alter that plan by using birth control?

The human and the woman in me kicks in and tells me that I could not go through yet another miscarriage. That I am too old to be a mother now. That my life is good just the way it is.

And then I go back to the what if scenario.

The bloody aftermath

2006-10-10T11:42:00.000-03:00

Saturday sucked. I knew that things were starting when I got up, but because all of our previous miscarriages were either so early that it was more like a heavy period, or so late that a d&c was required, I had no idea what to expect with this one.

So we got up, got dressed and headed to the rink to watch Frodo play hockey. I got about 30 minutes into it and realized that I needed to get out of the rink. I waited in the truck while they finished up, and got home just in time.

I spent the day between the washroom, bathtub and bed. The pain was beyond my expectations. I got relief when I was hanging off the edge of the bed, throwing up into the garbage can and HB was rubbing my lower back. Of course, being the arse that I am, I had turned down pain medication at the ER the day before because I wasn't in pain. I've never been known for my foresight.

I actually don't remember a whole lot about Saturday. HB said he called the duty doctor at one point because I was feverish and he thought that the pain just seemed to be too severe. He has always marvelled at my high pain threshold, so for him to say he felt it was too severe, it must have been bad. I don't feel like too much of a wimp anyhow - so even if it wasn't that severe, I love him for saying it. We decided to wait it out here at home instead of taking the duty doctor's advice to go to emergency. I couldn't imagine going through that in an emergency room waiting area, and although it sucked, I'm glad we stayed at home.

HB got me some gravol, and six tabs later, I got to sleep.

And basically slept until Sunday.

Figuring it was over with, we got dressed - me somewhat shakily - and went to Mass. Then we got in the truck and drove an hour to my parents' place for Thanksgiving dinner. I hadn't eaten since Saturday morning, and didn't have a big bunch to eat that night, but did get some turkey and veggies into me. After supper, I was in the washroom, washing my hands, when all of a sudden I felt as if I was peeing myself. I got onto the toilet just barely in time. I can't remember ever having seen that much blood before - it terrified me. That has happened two more times since. No warning - just a woosh and there it is.

I've been put off work for the week, and am being referred over to the early pregnancy complications clinic to see if a d&c is required.

I'm glad to be off work. I don't feel like facing people at all right now. I think it's hitting HB hard today. We were talking last night - this whole roller coaster ride of whether we can have kids or not have kids is taking a toll. We had both just adjusted to the thought of a very cool life with just Frodo and Mini-Me, whom we get to send away to their mother, giving us a good dose of adult time and activities, when this baby came along. Swing back quickly to adjusting to another plan for life. And then just as quickly, that is stolen from you.

He's been such a rock. I want to be a rock for him now - and let him know that we are going to be ok. I hope I can help him to believe that's the truth.

So Much For That

2006-10-06T16:47:00.000-03:00

Spots turned to clots this morning. I went to emergency at 11:30 a.m. Had an ultrasound at 2:30 that told us the baby had not grown and was not viable. They sent me home at 4:00 p.m. to pass it, with instructions to come back if it got too bad.

HB and the kids were all with me, and we'll hang out together this weekend. This Thanksgiving weekend. I'm going to try really hard to find some things to be grateful for.

Back from Bowston

2006-10-05T20:52:00.000-03:00

We had a great time in Boston. HB and I were attending a conference together, which is a rarity, and got to stay in an awesome hotel which was close to some great shops which although I'd never buy from, I had a whale of a time touching stuff in. I touched purses that went for $600, shoes that were $800, jackets that were $2500 ... you get the picture.

We walked and walked and walked. I had my first trip on a subway. In short, we had a great time. The only downside was a teensy bit of spotting on Wednesday after we finished all our walking around - HB figures we clocked about 15 miles yesterday.

So onto the doctor's appointment today. I was straight up with her about all my fears due to symptoms coming and going. She's so cool. Basically she said what all of you have said. Each pregnancy is different. Many people have no symptoms at all. She then went on to tell me that she was willing to send me for another ultrasound if I wanted, and that she would listen with the doppler today but only if I understood that there was a good chance we still might not hear a heartbeat today - and that not hearing a heartbeat today meant nothing at all since I'm just 11 weeks.

We did listen with the doppler. There was a lot of noise, and twice she thought she heard something but couldn't get enough behind my pelvic bone to get to it fully. HB also thought he heard something at both those times.

She told me that walking all the distance could tilt my cervix slightly, causing a little spotting. She then told me to go home, get off my feet and nap.

We've decided to go for the nuchal fold and maternal serum testing, along with the early ultrasound. We're going to wait until the 19th for the ultrasound, but she has told me that I can call her at any time if I want more. She said I'm in for a lot of ultrasounds anyhow during this pregnancy. I've gained 4 lbs so not bad - especially after a week of eating magnificent meals and desserts!

So basically, everything is fine. I'm tired after the trip and we're headed into a busy Thanksgiving weekend. I have a truckload of studying to get caught up on, and the kids are coming over tomorrow. The great part is that HB is all about me lying down whenever I want to, and I got enough lectures today from both Dr. H and HB to realize that saying I need to lay down does not equal being lazy right now.

I could get used to that.

A Poacher Named Hope

2006-09-29T09:09:00.000-03:00

I have decided to leave my head partially in the sand for now. I was truly just having a bad day I think. I've worked so hard to remain positive and stress free, and that just wasn't happening the other day - thus the ostrich post.

Having said that, I got up on Wednesday morning and was going about my morning routine of showering when I was overcome with a coughing fit that left me hanging over the toilet wretching. I have been fairly congested throughout this pregnancy thus far ... something I do remember from my first pregnancy. Without wandering too far into the zone of too much information, the congestion builds up, eventually makes me throw up, and is for me, one of the sure pregnancy symptoms I get.

If anyone had been peeping in our windows that morning, they would have thought us totally wonked. HB is sending me off to work with a kiss and a cheery "hope you throw up all day hon", and I'm smiling weakly back saying "thanks...me too". Yep. Wonked.

So despite all the good advice (seriously...thank you all so much for the suggestions and comments...every one of them), I decided against calling my doctor. I read your comments, googled, read some real books ... all of which assured me that what I was feeling was normal for the 9 to 10 week mark.

We leave tomorrow morning for five days in Boston. As weird as this sounds, I thought if something is wrong, there's nothing that I can do about it. So I might as well wait until I get back from Boston and deal with it at my doctor's appointment on Thursday.

But in my heart, I am beginning to believe that perhaps nothing is wrong. Just maybe. I'm starting to allow that long lost bag named Hope to slip in there .... she's not a permanent resident yet, but she is doing some poaching.

The Ostrich Has A Request

2006-09-26T07:00:00.000-03:00

I'm terrified. I've got that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it's not morning sickness. I'm googling and reading ... trying to find reassurance. I just know something is wrong with this pregnancy.

I don't feel pregnant. The only "symptoms" that I really have are tiredness and what feels like a thickened stomach area that's uncomfortable to hold in. Even with the tiredness, I can push through that if I have to and keep going. I have no morning sickness whatsoever. I'm not starving, even if I miss a meal like I had to with supper last night. My breasts are sore when I wake up in the middle of the night, but that's about it. Maybe a little tender throughout the day if I brush against something - but not outlandlishly so. And although I'm peeing frequently, even that seems to have subsided, despite the fact that I'm drinking a ton of water daily.

I don't see my family doctor until next Thursday, and the high risk clinic isn't seeing me until October 19th. There's a part of me that wants to call my doctor today and ask for something - anything - an ultrasound, more blood work, a doppler listen. And then there's a bigger part of me that's winning out that says ignore it. Relax. You really don't want to know if anything is wrong, now do you?

I can't get the sight of the empty sac from our first ultrasound (at 7 weeks) out of my head. I keep having this foreboding sense that it's still empty.

So come on....tell me all your stories about people you know who had beautiful, wonderfully healthy babies with nary a pregnancy symptom. Help me keep my head in the sand please.

Hope deserved?

2006-09-22T15:40:00.000-03:00

It doesn't seem fair that some of us have to struggle so very much to bring a child into this world. In my last post, I was being buoyed up by Julia's ever present wit. Now I'm weeping with her and her family as they try to move through this latest development.

I can remember reading the blogs of other infertile sisters who managed to achieve pregnancy. None ever really breathed easily, and most struggled with alternating feelings of guilt, fear and anxiety. I can remember thinking that if it were me, I would just be so eternally grateful for the pregnancy that I wouldn't complain or worry.

I want to hunt down each one of the bloggers I ever thought that about it and apologize deeply now. I so fully get it.

If I allow myself to feel truly happy and relaxed about this pregnancy, I'm convinced I'm cursing it and myself. The joy of the most blessed event of my life has been stolen from me. I can't figure out how to retrieve it and that sucks. I remember when Julia posted a semi-hopeful post and I cheered! Yay and hurrah for hope!

We do deserve to feel joy and hope. We do have the right to be excited about these babies we have loved into existance after so many years of trying. We should be able to shout from rooftops. Yet, as Mony so eloquently wrote, we strap on our orange belts, but still kind of keep them hidden under our folded arms, afraid that if we breathe too loudly, our orange belt will be repossessed.

Sad.

On being a radiant goddess

2006-09-17T22:08:00.000-03:00

I was away for the weekend, attending a conference which was exactly what I needed, and where I needed to be. It was a Cursillo conference - filled with people of great faith. Right now I need to be reminded that I, too, am a person of faith. This weekend did exactly that for me, and I'm feeling incredibly peaceful, healthy, happy and yes, hopeful.

I was just reading Julia's most recent blog entry in which she says, "Which, um, ok, but my third husband is not only going to be a pastry chef he is going to be one of these internet spouses I keep reading about who strongly believe that pregnancy is a mystical, awe-inspiring time of great pith and moment and who cannot do enough to nurture and support the radiant goddess they are blessed enough to call Partner, Lifemate, Friend during this magical arduous process".

This cracked me up but also made me reflect on just how grateful I am that HB is one of those internet spouses of which she speaks!

I came home from the conference to find that he had spent his entire weekend painting. Now you have to understand - HB and I are probably the most sloth like home owners in the world. We keep a clean house...a tidy house....but we don't do that paint/renovate/repair thing. At all. Seriously. We have duct taped up holes in the walls. And been fine with that.

But I had happened to mention that I'd like to get the small bathroom on the main floor painted. My wish apparently is his command these days. Not only was the wallpaper border stripped, the bathroom painted totally, and the trim painted a beautiful contrasting colour - he also bought an awesome new light fixture for above the mirror, installed a new sink to replace the old one that had icky holes in the porcelain, painted the front hall and the french doors, and replaced the rubber on the front steps.

Now he's picking out colours for the living room, and I'm dreaming of hardwood floors.

He has decided that I am not to lift my arms above my head, which pretty much rules out putting away or getting any dishes in our house since I'm a short little runt whose kitchen has high cupboards. I am not to vacuum, nor am I to carry anything of weight over 10 lbs. I am not to bend to retrieve laundry from the washer or dryer. The list goes on.

The clinic called on Friday. Our nuchal fold and early ultrasound will not take place until October 19th. That feels really far away. It's hard to believe that I'm really only 8 weeks pregnant. It feels like we have been trying to get our heads around this forever now, when in fact it's only been 4 weeks.

I am beginning to believe this will happen. Why else would HB be treating me like the "radiant goddess" of which Julia speaks?

I'm out of my mind

2006-09-13T21:28:00.000-03:00

So...not much is new. I've had a very uneventful week. No bleeding. Minimal spotting. Oh my...the joys of discussing thy inner workings with the internet!

I'm exhausted. Seriously. I'm taking two hour naps when I come home from work. I'm working really hard to eat balanced meals and snacks throughout the day. HB won't let me stretch to put a dish away, nor will he let me pick anything up. If you knew me, you'd know that I don't do the helpless maiden thing well. Either I will get extremely used to this and turn into a huge sow who refuses to do anything but chew, or I will get extremely pissed at this and lift something huge out of revenge.

I did something yesterday that was extremely brave or extremely stupid. (Oh...and apparently pregnancy has reduced my vocabulary...removing all adjectives but the word extremely). Anyhow. I bought maternity clothes.

Stupid? Brave? Hopeful? Not sure. I was at the mall, and found myself brave enough to wander into the store. They had such nice stuff. And this sales chick? I hope she's on commission because she was awesome. I had no intention of even trying anything on, let alone buying anything. Although I had been thinking that it would be nice to get a few things at a time and just put them away.....just in case. Somehow we got into a conversation and I found myself telling her that we were being cautious because of our history. Very tactfully she said they had a full return and refund policy.

I walked out of there with 8 tops and a gift card for $50 off my next purchase.

What the hell am I doing?

And through it all, I'm trying to be happy. But inside, if I'm really really starkly honest, I have this recurring thought that there is really no baby in there. That I'm going to go for the next ultrasound and they will say "ahhhh sac's empty. So sorry." I feel like I have two little creatures on my shoulders .... the evil one on my left shoulder whispering that I'm losing my mind and don't deserve this .... and the beautiful, sweet one on my right shoulder, softly stroking my cheek and telling me that my time has finally come. I just don't know which one will win out.

A scare

2006-09-08T18:45:00.000-03:00

How does that John Prine song go?
"woke up this morning....put on my slippers....went to the kitchen and bled...."

No wait, that's the infertile miscarrier song. I get them mixed up all the time.

Anyhow, I'm fine now but we had quite a scare today. I started to bleed bright red at about 11:50 a.m. It held out long enough to get me through this job interview I had this morning, thankfully, but immediately afterward out it came. Went right through my jeans.

I drove myself to emergency, calling my doctor's office on the way. She was out of the office but being as awesome as she is, got the message and called me back on my cell within five minutes. She told me that my hcg levels from yesterday were wonderful, but to reassure myself I should continue on to emergency where she would request additional quantitative levels, an ultrasound and an internal.

I was home by supper time. For all the complaining there is about the emergency clinic around here, they have sure been great to me.

It was ironic, however, that as I sat waiting to be seen by triage, a very pregnant young woman came up, butted in front of me to see how much longer she was going to have to wait to be seen for the dizzy spell she was having. She stood there in front of me, rubbing her belly the entire time. I was biting my tongue and praying for HB to walk in before I lost it.

Anyhow...results.
HCG test 1 - 2800 (August 30)
HCG test 2 - 17,000 (Sept 7 - 8 days)
HCG test 3 - 19,000 (Sept 8 - 1 day)
Internal - cervix closed; presence of a clot of blood but not coming from inside the cervix.
Ultrasound - gestational sac present; no fetal pole but the radiologist and my doctor both warned us before the ultrasound that this is normal for this stage.

The only concern the radiologist voiced was that the sac is not centered in the uterus. It is up higher than he would have liked to have seen it.

The bleeding had subsided by about 3 p.m. and I was home by 5:30, with orders from the doctor to "take it easy" for a while.

We told Frodo and Mini Me last night. They are delighted and have stated their preference for a sister. I love that they refer to the baby as their 'sister'.

The down side of today? HB had to tell Knothead because he had to get her to take the kids for a few hours to come meet me at emergency. She just called her and in her way of being able to make anything be about herself said "How are you feeling? Good. Congratulations by the way. Don't worry about it. I bled in my sixth week. I actually I bled continuously from week 6 to 12."

This is exactly what she said to me when we lost Brodie. Oh no wait...how she actually said it at that time was "Don't think I'm not sorry about the baby, because I am. I bled during my pregnancy too so I know what you're going through".

Then she gave me a pot of mums. That died.

I had forgotten about that until tonight.

Nervously public

2006-09-07T17:36:00.000-03:00

This morning I went to see Dr. H for my first prenatal visit.

Prenatal. Me! (snort!!!!)

It went well. I had been keeping a list of things I wanted to discuss with her, some of which are courtesy of comments here - like Laura's observation about progesterone - and others which were just related to things that had been going on with me, like the brown spotting. It's not even fair to call it spotting. It was more like brown splat on the toilet paper. One splat and it was done.

Anyhow, as I was getting ready this morning I could hear HB up here cackling like a mad scientist. I asked him what he was going through, and he told me that I'd have to experience it to appreciate it. I get to the doctor's office, pull out my carefully printed and bulleted list to go over it before seeing her, and at the bottom of the list, in HB's print, complete with a bullet and a happy face, I read:

"Is excessive farting normal?"

I was on the floor! What a guy I married. I simply slid the note over to Dr. H (who loves HB by the way), and after she stopped crying, she told me she'd be leaving him a voice mail message to explain why he'd better get used to it.

After an opening like that for your first prenatal visit, where do you go from there?

She is delighted with all my blood work, my blood pressure, the fact that I've been smoke and booze free for a few years now, and agrees with HB that no stress is the order of the day. Although she is my family doctor, she is also an ObGyn. She has referred me to the high risk clinic but has also said that I will be a "shared care" patient with her. What that means basically is twice the attention, which also means twice the appointments, but hey...that's cool.

I went for a truckload more bloodwork and urine analysis this morning as well, and then over to the maternity hospital to pick up a nutrition guide she wanted me to have.

Then I went to work. Where the word is definitely out. And I spent the day receiving congratulations from everyone.

We plan to tell Frodo and Mini-Me this weekend.

Oh God .... I hope we didn't make a mistake in allowing this to become so public. But...to quote many other bloggers....NBHHY and there are no signs that SBIGTH (something bad is going to happen). It's just that I'm still so freaking early in this pregnancy. It could be over tomorrow. Everything that I'm reading (yes, I broke down and allowed HB to buy me a copy of what to expect when you're expecting) says that the minute you know you are pregnant, start acting like you are pregnant. Rest when you need to ... be happy and stress free ... eat healthily ... don't lift ... etc. All the things that HB is encouraging me to do. Yet, it's so early. And I don't 'feel' pregnant. And it could all disappear tomorrow.

Chant with me, will you?

Sinking in

2006-09-05T16:15:00.000-03:00

It's all good. The spotting has stopped. In fact, it was very minor spotting, in retrospect. One little splurt first thing in the morning on Sunday and Monday, and another little one in the evening on Sunday. I've done enough reading and googling now to know that it's all normal.

I have to be careful what I wish for - yesterday I said to HB that I'd like to get a good dose of morning sickness to know I was pregnant. Well, today has been one of those queezy all day days.

We have decided that we're telling people freely. I know what it is that I have to do to take care of myself physically, but we all know that if it's not going to continue, there's nothing you can about it. So in the meantime, we want people to be happy for and with us.

Yep. It's starting to sink in.

A desperate beg - Updated

2006-09-03T08:10:00.000-03:00

I'm terrified.

I woke up this morning to some very mild gas like cramps, and when I wiped, I found a brown discharge on the t-paper. The spotting has stopped although the gas like cramps continue. I can't help but flash back to my first bleed with Brodie. This one is NOT bright red, which is good I know (I've researched at Google U this morning already), but it still terrifies me. My breasts are also not sore at all. And I mean at all. Although I've been a little squeemish at times throughout the days, I'm not experiencing any naseau or sickness. Just tiredness, and even that wasn't bad last night.

The other thing that is terrifying me is that HB is not at all interested in considering the possibility that this pregnancy might not stick around. When we were had that last ultrasound that told us Brodie was gone, I can remember the nurse technician and I both looking at the screen and knowing right away. HB, however, was refusing out loud to believe what he was seeing. He kept saying "it's all alright....the baby is fine" over and over.

He kept saying that this morning too when I told him about the spotting. I'm so torn. I've googled and read, and found evidence on both sides. I don't see my doctor until Thursday. I'm trying to follow HB's advice and be as stress free as possible....be positive....enjoy being pregnant.

And yet I have this feeling of doom this morning. I can't even try to think beyond this day. And of course I'm thinking about how frigging many people we told this week in our stupid excitement.

Please please please let me, just this once, be part of that 80% for whom spotting at this stage means absolutely nothing. Please!

_______________________
Updated:
I have had no more spotting at all since the one episode this morning. No more cramping, and happily, my breasts are tender! Thanks everyone .... I'm going to try hard NOT to be an overreacting hormonal bag very often!

One minute at a time

2006-08-31T22:06:00.000-03:00

Driving.
Cell phone rings.
It's the doctor.
Dr. H: Did you get your test results?
Moi: Nope. (trying hard to keep eyes on road while HB sits anxiously beside me)
Dr. H: Well, you are pregnant.
(Pause)
Dr. H: In fact, how do you feel? Because you are extremely pregnant.
Moi: (Still trying to keep eyes on road while tears are welling up in said eyes.) Umm...I feel tired but you know
Dr. H: But do you feel pregnant? Because I mean it...you are very pregnant!
Moi: (Giving up and pulling over to the side of the road).
Dr. H: Make an appointment tomorrow and get yourself in here.

My hcg levels were 2000+

I'm allowing myself to feel happy tonight.

Happy Blogaversary to Me

2006-08-29T18:03:00.000-03:00

On August 30, 2004 I posted to this blog for the first time. It had been two years since we had discovered that our baby boy was not alive.

Here I sit, exactly two years later. Pregnant. Holy cow.

I am stunned beyond belief. I saw my doctor today and got the blood work order. I'll go first thing tomorrow morning and believe it or not, I can't remember how it works. I think I will have to go back and get a second draw in a day or two. I'm hoping it's the very next day since I'm working out of town every day this week.

HB and I had already had plans to hang out with my parents yesterday, and we decided that we would share the news with them. HB is working really hard to help me remain positive. Like me, he says he's happy and scared all at once. I think happy is winning out with him. He wants to wait a few days until I get the hcg levels back and then wants us to tell Frodo and Mini-Me together.

I guess Frodo and Mini-Me were talking about wanting a baby brother or sister just the other day. Man, imagine how cool I'll be if I can actually deliver on that want? I mean really....first I actually saw Kiss in person which upped my cool level with Mini-Me....so delivering on this would be huge!

HB and I are following through with our lock down this weekend. I have to head to an amazing part of our province for work on Thursday. HB is going to come with me, and we're going to stay down there for Friday night as well. We've booked a really nice cottage on the grounds of a resort right on the water. My sister in law is going to hang out here with the dawg while we're gone, which is great.

And just to keep things exciting, I got a call today inviting me to an interview for a job that I would just absolutely love to have! It's a one year assignment to start, but it's with a staff team that I truly see as being a key part of my future career. I accepted the interview and will deal with any decisions I may have to make if and when they arise.

A state of disbelief. Part of me knows it's true because I have the positive test stick. And I feel exactly the way I did with my first pregnancy that actually hung around for any length of time. Sore boobs that are already showing blue veins. Bags under my eyes and mid afternoon tiredness. Early morning wakings, and already with the peeing thing. I went to the weight loss clinic I've been attending yesterday, and knew that I had to tell them. They were absolutely delighted, resulting in every consultant in the office coming into where I was, squeeling with delight and hugging me ... and telling me that although I was NOT to eat for two, I was also not to come back until after my baby was born. They were using words like "due date" and "bring the baby in". How the hell can people be so confident that a pregnancy is actually going to result in a baby?

Oh. My. God

2006-08-28T08:00:00.000-03:00

This is what I woke up to this morning. I'll write more when I can think straight. I'm terrified right now.

So...edited at 6 p.m. my time to update you all.

Yes, it is what you think. I have been waiting and waiting for my stupid period to start, never ever thinking that I might possibly be pregnant because, you know, I gave up on that some time ago. This morning I got up at my usual time and decided to use this one lonely test I had in the cupboard. I was using it more to assure myself that I wasn't pregnant, and that my period would indeed be starting any day now.

Ha. That worked well didn't it?

I think we're both in shock. I'm very likely only about 5 weeks along. I called the doctor today to see about getting hcg levels done.

I'm terrified. Terrified that it won't stick around. And terrified that it will stick around.

Reluctant hostess

2006-08-20T16:00:00.000-03:00

Today is my last day of vacation. It's raining like crazy outside, and I'm not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. I'll know enough next year, though, not to take my vacation around my week of exams. I thought I was being smart doing that but in fact, I spent the first week of my vacation stuck in the trailer suffering death by stepchildren, and stressed about not getting my school stuff done. Then I spent my second week away from work in classes. Then my third week away from work (second week of vacation) was spent with HB's sister here, who apparently has moved in with us.

Don't get me wrong. She's lovely. It's just that I am used to down time, and our lifestyle gives me plenty of that down time by myself. We might go like wild people between gigs, works, kids, commitments but then I'll find myself all alone in the house for a few hours or even a whole evening, and I will lap it up. Not so much since she arrived.

There's a part of me that feels horribly guilty for even writing about it. You see, her husband of 20 years up and told her in May that he no longer loved her. It has taken her until now to get the balls up to actually leave the kids with him, get on a plane and start thinking about herself for a change. She told him she needed to be with family, and over she came last week. She came camping with us for our two day "let's get away by ourselves" time, and then just never got out of the car when we got back into town.

She told me today that she only bought a one way ticket. And then made a request for me to help her hook up with the people she needs to talk with in order to start her own business.

HB and I were sniping at each other in the kitchen today because we're both kind of at the end of our ropes. There have just been too many people around in this little house all week, and no room to put them or us or the tension.

I'm on the road most of the next two weeks, which probably isn't a bad thing. I'm hoping she'll get lonely enough to think about buying another one way ticket ... or if not that, to think about moving back to her mother's place. Damn me for being lazy this summer and not getting that bed out of the spare room thrown out and replaced with a chair and new computer desk! Did I mention that the only space left in this house that I've managed to protect for my own is this one little computer desk space, which just happens to be in the guest room? I start back to classes in 2 weeks, and given that I'm doing an online program, having a guest in the computer room will not work well.

HB assured me today that the lockdown is still on for Labour Day weekend. I hope he understands that lockdowns do not generally involve inviting your sister along.

M'kay. Bitching done. I'm putting my hostess face back on and headed downstairs now.

Lock Down Time

2006-08-12T21:09:00.000-03:00

I finished my summer term at school today and am feeling absolutely exhausted. It was a long week. Early mornings, long days in the classroom filled with making presentations and listening to others, and then late nights getting ready for the next long day. I think I averaged about 3 hours sleep per night this week.

But I have two more courses completed in this program. Only ten more to go - April 2008 will be here before I know it!

I found a job that I'm interested in applying for this week. At best, it will be a lateral move and in fact if I can't negotiate continued support for my educational program, it will be a decrease ... but it's out of the department I'm currently in, and working with people that I really really like. It's also doing work that I find very interesting, and would put me in touch with a whole new group of senior people. I've decided I'm going to apply for it and even if I don't get it, I suspect I'll get an interview which will be a good experience.

HB and I have been trying to get some time alone all summer, and it ain't happening. We thought we had managed to plan a sneaky camping trip for this week, but his sister arrived from Newfoundland earlier this week and found out. Guess who is now coming with us?

So...we have declared Labour Day weekend a secret lockdown weekend. We haven't done that in several years. Basically a lock down weekend involves major deception of family and friends (sorry...we'll be out of town that weekend), rental of lots of movies, stocking up on good food and treats, shutting off of the phones, closing of the blinds and curtains, and locking down from the outside world. The longest we've ever done it for is two complete days but with this being a long weekend, we're going to aim for the four night stretch. We might even actually leave town for part of it.

Now the challenge will be for both of us to actually protect that weekend. If we give in and give up time on that weekend, we're screwed. It will mean that we will have no time to ourselves until at least November.

When did we become human doings?

A slow death....torture by stepchildren!

2006-08-04T20:54:00.000-03:00

I was camping this week. In a trailer. With three boys under 13 and my husband. And for the first time in my life, I was actually grateful that I am unable to bear children.

It was the week from hell. Mini Me's birthday was last week, and Frodo's is today. We told them they could bring one friend with them, and they picked a kid I will call S here. Now normally, S is the one kid of all their friends that I truly like and enjoy. He is a wee bit older than Frodo and Mini Me, but always seemed to have that good sense gene firmly in place. He demonstrates good manners; knows when to have fun and when to draw the line. I liked him. Until he turned into the demon seed on this camping trip! Both HB and I had to speak to him several times about his behaviour and attitude. Then we lost total control when he met my 14 year old niece (who is gorgeous, in my completely humble opinion) and his hormones raged out of control for the rest of the week ... forcing him to engage in ludicrious actions and assinine behaviours. Ahhh young love.

Add to this that Frodo has been having some major issues which were out in full force this week. I think I've mentioned them before, but to recap - he is entirely and utterly spoiled, but masks it well enough that we're never completely convinced it isn't just the actions of a spoiled child playing parents off against each other, but rather is something more deeply rooted. HB and Knothead are actually taking him to a psychologist next week and I'm not sure whether to be happy or worried. Happy because perhaps we'll finally get to the bottom of it, but worried because Knothead could make a drama out of Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree.

One of the things that causes the most trouble for me is Frodo's complete insistence on being physically connected to HB at all times, especially if it means keeping me away from HB. Even at night. I recently put my foot down and insisted that HB begin to wean this child from sleeping with him at night. Yes, you read correctly. My 11 year old stepson still needs his dad to sleep with him at night. When HB says no, Frodo throws the biggest tantrum you have ever seen. Complete with kicking, screaming, crying and punching. Even if his friends are present. He doesn't seem to have any embarrassment around (1) the fact that he needs his dad to sleep with him or (2) if he can't have that, he has a tantrum.

So picture that in a trailer. The first night he did great. Went to bed on his own, in his own bed, and slept through the night. The second night, however, brought a different story. HB tired of saying no and left the trailer, leaving me to handle it. I have no trouble being the bitch in this situation. I told him he had to the count of three to get to his bed and that for every minute after the count of three, he was going to bed 15 minutes earlier the next night. He wailed, screamed, yelled at me, and then demanded the cell phone so that he could call his mother. I refused. That really set off the tantrum! Who was I to refuse him his right to call his mother? I have noticed that when he calls his mother, the tantrum gets worse after the call. He had already spoken to her earlier that night and said goodnight then - so I felt justified in my refusal.

Anyhow, that was just one of the antics. The rest of the week was filled with the three kids begging for money, for rides in my mother's golf cart, to drive my mother's golf cart, to watch tv, to go to McDonald's, to go to town, to go go go, do do do.....ARRRRGGGGGH!

All I wanted to do was relax. Maybe hike a bit. Go swimming. But generally you know - relax. Do what you do when you go camping. Not what happened. We were at my parent's trailer, which is at my sister's campground, so we were hardly roughing it since they all live there from May to October every year. This is a 40 foot trailer with microwave and satellite tv - a far cry from the four man tent HB and I are used to hauling around with us. The kids discovered the satellite tv the minute we landed, and although it was 35C outside, they were parked inside watching television. There is a beautiful swimming pool and rec hall filled with games just a three second walk down the hill. They were too lazy to even walk that far. If we wouldn't drive them on the golf cart, they weren't interested in going.

I was at my wit's end by the time we loaded up the truck today to come home. Never have I been so glad to get home in my life! I truly have arrived into the "glad I don't have kids" stage. I was absolutely delighted to be able to drop them all off at their other residences today, come home to my quiet, clean and uncluttered home and forget all about kids. Even the dog looked happy to be away from them. A long weekend with two major papers to write has never looked so good to me as this one does!

Spinster Sister

2006-07-23T08:55:00.000-03:00

My husband has left me.

For the weekend that is .... to accompany 200 youth and the other 49 adult chaperones from our area to Attleboro, MA to a youth conference. He was called in at the last moment to go and said yes, although wasn't quite sure what he was getting himself into. We knew lots of other people going this time and who have gone before, and who have always had great experiences. As a chaperone, you're really going to be there to support the youth, who sometimes have some pretty intense conversion experiences.

Neither HB or I are very charismatic Christians, although we have all the respect in the world for those people who have that experience. We are more people of quiet faith, and in fact, if I look seriously at my attitude around charismatic belief, I would have to admit that I am afraid of it. To be fully open to the gifts of a charism means to be able to fully let go of the control. I have so far to go in that regard! Thus, my walls are up - firmly protecting my humanness and keeping it intact. HB is a great example to me in that regard and I'm looking forward to him coming back home so that I can hear about his experience this weekend. They've been in the midst of thunder, lightening and rain storms during the whole weekend trip!

So I've been all by myself and off work since Thursday morning. I made a list of things I planned to accomplish during the five days I had to myself. The list looked like this:

complete the two major papers that are due for class on Monday and which had not yet been started;
buy big storage bins and begin to fill with the various items accumulated in the wrecked room downstairs;
paint the small bathroom on the main floor;
mow the lawn;
dismantle the bed in the spare room, throw out the mattress and convert the room into the office I have been wanting for years now.

You get the picture.

Here's what the list of what actually got done looks like:

play many levels of Cactus Bruce and the Corporate Monkeys;
spend three hours hanging out in a coffee shop and gabbing with a girlfriend that I never get to spend time with anymore;
go to the spa, get a french manicure and a makeup consultation;
spend $250 on three teensy weensy things of makeup and two brushes with which to apply said makeup;
read blogs.

Who knew that people other than infertiles blogged? Why didn't someone tell me sooner? There is life beyond infertility? I'm gobsmacked!!! Good life! Funny life! Sad life. Single life. Married life. Sarcastic life.

But there is life.

Check out two of my new reads:

Dustin - I found his blog by way of Grins (a must read in her own right) and have been following his daily excursions of moving, dating, living with cats and struggling with re-establishing after divorce.

Boomama - a Christian mom living life in the real world - be prepared to shed some tears at her most recent posts. It's a real testimony to love and friendship.

So here I sit now, 3:15 on Sunday afternoon with the prospect of two unwritten papers stretching ahead of me. And yet I'm blogging. And looking for new blogs to read! So how about adding to my distraction today? If you're reading, leave a comment with links to some of your favourite, non-fertility related blogs. Come on. Do it for me. I'm home alone! (wow...that line used to work in the aol chat rooms...hehe)

Second best is sometimes the best

2006-07-18T19:02:00.000-03:00

I am one of those people who has always settled for the second best. My dad is a great fixer upper, and we were raised to believe that it didn't matter what the label said - if it was a good price and good quality, then it was good enough. I can still remember being new to my school in grade nine, and wanting more than anything a pair of North Star sneakers to wear to school. Dad to the rescue! He came home one Sunday from the flea market, with a pair of ever so slightly used sneakers in his hands. They were not new. And they were definitely not North Stars. But they were mine. Dad said he'd fix them up and they'd be as good as new.

As I grew up, the trend continued. I got to take my brother's second hand stereo to college with me; his used guitar became mine; my mother's hair dryer was passed over to me when she got a new one; and her friend who was the same size as me would save her work clothes for me once I began to work.

I was the recipient of my parents' old towels, old duvets and duvet covers they were no longer using, and many a piece of used furniture to help furnish those sparse apartments. I will never forget the years of the green and orange couches adorning my beautiful basement flat with the hardwood floors and window seats. Those couches. Ouch.

When I bought my first house, my dad told me he had built me a table for my deck. He had built some beautiful picnic tables in the past so I was quite excited to see what would arrive. Turns out my sister and her husband got the picnic table. I received another handmade Dad-table. A piece of plywood covered with mac-tac and put on some old table legs.

I used that table for six years.

Then he came in to help me repair that deck. He brought warped wood that he had picked up as a bargain, and instead of deck baluster, he went with lattice. My deck is 18 feet off the ground, and I have 18 feet of lattice reaching from the ground to the top of the deck rail. Ugliest thing you've ever seen.

I smile as I type this because although it sounds like I'm complaining, each one of these stories comes with a memory of gifts given totally from the heart of two loving parents who didn't have much as we were growing up, and never really got used to having much once they hit the point that they could splurge a bit.

They instilled a pretty solid set of values in me ... and one of the great gifts they gave me was the solid knowledge of the place of material things in my life. They just are not that important to me most days.

So this weekend, when I went out and for the first time in my entire adult life, bought a new patio set, I almost felt guilty. I have been threatening to buy one for the last four years. I wanted to replace the hideously blue painted plastic table and the three green bucket chairs that HB accepted from neighbours who were moving and didn't want to throw it out. I almost felt guilty as I threw the first chair over the lattice railings and heard it shatter on the lawn below. I almost felt guilty as I hiked the table out to the curb for the garbage pick up.

I almost felt guilty as I sat under the umbrella, nestled into a cushiony chair with my feet propped up on the second of the FIVE chairs with matching cushions that came with this set.

Almost.

Now I wonder if I can break down and convince myself to buy a pair of crocs? Maybe I should check out the flea market...they might have knock offs for sale.....

Making Plans

2006-07-10T20:32:00.000-03:00

Loving this new weight loss program. Eating a lot it seems - trying to graze my way through the day and it works. Down 3 lbs in the first week. In major debt, but down 3 lbs.

More importantly, I feel in control. I know it's only 3 lbs but I controlled them leaving the ample arse (hereinafter referred to simply as a.a.)

In other news, Knothead has decided to manipulate her way through our summer again, but HB is not allowing it to interfere. We have plans to go camping the first week in August. He told her that on three separate occasions over the last six weeks. None the less, she has decided that the demon seeds won't survive if they don't get to a Red Sox game that specific week, and then tried to cover by saying she had misunderstood HB. Hmmm....wonder which of the three times he said it she misunderstood? Or was it that she misread the freaking printed out calendar of commitments and plans he gave her? You know, where it says "T R A I L E R B O O K E D" right across that first week in August. I can see how you'd miss that. (Ed: would you want this woman teaching your children?)

I'm so proud of him though. He just said, "well, I'm going camping that week. If the kids are with me, cool. If not, I'm going camping".

Then she came back and told him that we could go camping during the third week of August when she is away. Gee. Thanks. Isn't she good to us?

Seriously. I have to talk to her boyfriend and get him to up the "do it her" quota. She's not getting enough. And I shouldn't even let myself be concerned, but man, how tiring must it be to live in her head like that? Always having to be out in front of everyone so you can figure out how to manipulate the situation?

The really sad thing, in my opinion, is how Frodo is becoming just like her. HB came into the kitchen the other day and said "I love him, but I hate him because he is just like her and I can't walk away from this one". How true.

Whatever. We're going camping. And that's fun. I just have to survive the next few weeks at work and get these papers done for my courses so I can take the week and just relax.

Ample Arse Begone!

2006-07-03T10:53:00.000-03:00

In 1999 I got the "click" I needed to get off my ample arse and do something about my weight. I joined a weight loss clinical program called H*erbal M*agic (asteriking so I don't get spammed) and lost 60 lbs. I maintained that loss until I became pregnant and since the first miscarriage, have just allowed my weight to climb and climb. I am officially now 7 lbs higher in weight than I was the day I walked into the HM clinic.

I have joined and rejoined HM since then, WW at least four times, and tried countless things on my own at home. I've been making a monthly charitable donation to C*urves for the last 18 months, and probably have paid at least one employee salary in full there. In short, I have sucked at doing anything about getting this weight off. And it's no small amount either. I am 64 lbs above my ultimate goal, and 44 lbs above where I was when I became pregnant.

I have been choosing to remain fat. And I have felt miserable about it. Yet I have still chosen to remain fat.

On Friday I marched myself into another weight loss program. The atmosphere in the place was alive! People were laughing and carrying on. I could hear cheers of congratulations from the private offices and whoops of laughter. None of the staff were these little size 4 stick university students out to make a summer job living - they were real women like me. Some had obvious weight struggles themselves - others were of normal weight and shape.

I was escorted into the manager's office for my private consultation. We started the interview and I promptly burst into tears! Excuse me?

I didn't realize how emotional I was about my weight and my body image. HB has been wonderful about it, but he's in such amazing shape that I just can't imagine why he finds me physically attractive. So I sat there, in front of this stranger woman, and I cried.

And then I joined. I feel the click.

I don't care if it's a gimick .... I saw pictures of people that I knew on the wall and they had lost weight. I have been doing the two day "cleansing" activity and got on my scale this morning after the first day. I'm already down two pounds. I don't care if it's all fluid. I'm down two pounds.

With work, school, the kids, lack of summer vacation....and everything else that feels out of my own control in my life, I need something of which I can be in control. My weight and my food intake is that thing. Man, that sounded like an eating disordered statement but really, I have so far to go before an eating disorder could kick in ... besides the fact that I just love food too much to ever think of going without it. Nope, it's the good kind of control.

HB and I have a trip to Boston booked for the end of September. If I keep to the prescribed regime, I will be at my halfway mark by then ... meaning I will be able to wear my Danier leather jacket which I adore! That, and my arse will actually fit comfortably in the seat for the trip.

I'm back. And I'm in control. Watch out world!

How could we not.....

2006-07-01T12:47:00.000-03:00

seriously consider falling in love with this guy?

Pan

I sent an email off earlier this week, hoping they might consider a Canadian as an adoptive mom, but had no response. Now his page says "pending" so perhaps he has found a good home already. I post on a message board for owners of giant breed dawgs, and they were already lining up to assist with transport from PA.

There are some awesome people on the internet.

All Taught Up

2006-06-29T19:50:00.000-03:00

I'm just waiting to start my on-line class here in a few minutes, and thought I'd pop a few thoughts down on the old blog.

Things at work are still sucking. I feel like I'm feeding into being a big part of a dysfunctional family - on the outside we're so corporately happy, high fiving and hugging all around and celebrating each other. The door closes and we kick the snot out of each other.

I have resolved to not be the negative one about this situation. I have resolved to put my head down, nose to the grindstone, and get this project done so I can get back to my regular job. But man it's hard to be PollyAnna Positive when you're being beat up and around all the time.

The latest is that I might have to use vacation time to attend the mandatory 2.5 day sessions at the end of each course in this masters program that I was asked by my employer to take! Because I was asked and encouraged to get it completed as quickly as possible, I've been taken two courses per semester. That calculates out to 112.5 hours of vacation per year that I would be required to take to attend class. I get 150 hours of vacation per year. That leaves about 4 work days that I would get off each year. Wooo hoooo.

So I got all formal on them, and wrote a letter asking for the definition of "reasonable time off to participate in the program", per my return of service agreement. I was just curious since, you know, I've been told I can't take time off to study. Or write a paper. Or apparently now go to the damn mandatory classes.

But that's just me. Curious Georgina.

I'm found a devotional book called "Faith in the Valley" by Iyanla Vanzant. She starts it out by saying that we're called to remember that within every valley lies a lesson for us to learn.

Is it ok to be tired of learning? I'm just asking.

Voulez vous voo doo?

2006-06-17T21:43:00.000-03:00

It occurred to me today that I am considerably late with this period. Like about 3 weeks late. Before you get excited (ok, before I get excited), let me assure you that I am not pregnant. I'm still just sucker enough to have bought into the whole maybe this is karma thing and I'm meant to present HB with a stick laced in urine for Father's Day. You know. Kind of in the same way that I got out of buying his a birthday present for his 40th birthday.

But no. So instead I wrapped up two pictures of our Barkley Boy that I had made into 8 x 10 and put into nice frames.

I didn't realize how stressed I was ... even with all the crap that has been going on of late. You'd think I'd clue in .... I mean an overnight stay in emerg, a meltdown at work and all the drama there should have been signs enough. We went for massages today and I could not believe how knotted up I was! Unbelievable. Man, it felt good. Unfortunately Knothead had thought it would be a good idea for Frodo and Mini Me to be here with us overnight tonight. I'd like to be Christian and say it was because she wanted them to be with their father on his hallmark holiday, but it's more that it suits her family plans tomorrow if they're back to her by noon. So we had these awesome massages and have been flat out ever since.

As for work...I've made a decision. I have met with the executive recruiter and she is reviewing my cv. I've moved my stuff to the crap cubicle. I've met with my home director and given him the heads up that if I don't have another job by the end of December, I will be back to my home position. And so between now and December, I'm going to put my head down, suck it up, get this project done and just keep chanting "it's just a job it's just a job it's just a job".

Ok. I might just maybe stick a few pins in a doll or two that I have in a drawer. Maybe.

Cheese with that whine?

2006-06-14T04:22:00.000-03:00

Ironically, it was almost a year ago that I posted this . I had the pleasure of close to a repeat performance at work yesterday. I was ambushed by human resources again. I have enjoyed some really good support in the form of leadership development and in return, I agreed to take on a project within the department that I wasn't that keen on doing. But I took it on, squandering a placement opportunity that I had been provided by a program that I was involved with, and against all advice from the career coach who was working with me. I was being advised to get out of my home department to complete this placement but I chose to remain there because I was applying for the jobs that I reference in that linked post.

If you've read the linked post, you know that I was told I wouldn't even be interviewed for the positions, but was asked to continue on with the work of this project. I had been reporting to an awesome project manager who was responsible for linking the work of my project into the ongoing work of the program area to which it belonged ... until she received a promotion and moved on. I found myself operating solo, reporting to the most senior person in the department, and trying to link my work into the program area on my own. None of which went well.

To put this in perspective (because I realized yesterday that I have minimized this entire event and that sane, normal people who don't work where I do are aghast at what has been happening), I was asked to carry out a piece of work that was part of a program and policy renewal initiative in our department. There are two components to this particular program area, and when the renewal project was initially announced, there was a team of four full time staff assigned to work on it. They quickly decided that it was too large in scope, and that they could only work on one of the two components. Two years later, I was asked to carry out the work related to the second component.

Just so we all understand:

Piece A - four staff and a project manager assigned full time for two years. Piece B determined to be too large to be in scope.

Piece B - One Sandy, no project manager or other staff resources (in fact, no office to work from for quite a while) assigned with 50% of her time being required to lead another initiative at the same time (for which there were also no staff, but which has received acclaim across the province and is being treated as a flagship program for government now...but remember, I suck at what I do).

I'm struggling with not sounding like a victim here but seriously....how would you feel? Since my project manager left, I have been attempting to bring this phase of the project to a close. We had created a project document with time lines and deliverables that broke the project into phases. We were careful to define what was in scope and not in scope for each phase. As everyone knows, the ability to deliver on deadlines is only as good as your ability to get sign off from decision makers. This project involved a large sector of service providers who have been treated like dirt by our department for a lot of years. One of the biggest pieces of work I had to do was in the area of relationship repair with this group. They were a really good group to work with, and turned themselves upside down to help me meet my deadlines. But internal to my own department ... the very group that asked for the work to be done? Different story.

I would schedule meetings with people that would be cancelled, rescheduled or for which people would simply not show. When I could finally get the key players at the table, the assumptions, rules and scope of the work was challenged. I ask for support in the area of research, only to be told there are no resources available to me. A new director is hired for the project area to which this piece of work belongs, and a decision is made to have the renewal initiative managed by the program area now, and that the staff working on the initiative will be assigned to that Director. I'm fine with that ... in fact am looking forward to working with this person who I know I will learn a lot from ... when I realize that there is a major miscommunication taking place.

The Director is under the impression that I will be assigned on a full time, permanent basis to her program area. When she brings this up at a meeting, I quickly said "with all due respect, that is not what I am aspiring to nor why I'm involved in this project". And that really got our relationship off to a good start.

The position that she thinks I'm assigned to permanently is two positions below where I am currently on the organizational chart, and pays about $20,000 per annum less. I have just completed a three year term acting in a position that is at the same level as hers. It just doesn't make sense to be involved in a career development placement that will put you back two levels and see you lose money, does it? Or is that just me being silly?

To be fair, she is new to government, and doesn't know me or my history. So we talked about it at one of our regularly scheduled meetings, and I gave her the history. I also apologized for my lack of tact in responding the way I did, and where I did it, but told her that I had a history of being screwed in this department and took career self management pretty seriously these days.

So last week I receive this appointment from human resources titled "career planning", inviting my new Director, the manager of HR, and myself to a meeting with our deputy minister (who is the senior person that I have been reporting to thus far) for first thing in the morning yesterday. I called HR to inquire about the purpose of the meeting, and was told not to worry. That is was simply a formal passing over of my supervision from the deputy to this new director, and that they wanted to review the terms of my educational agreement (the department is providing me with 75% of the financial support required to acquire this master's degree I'm working on).

Silly me. I almost took her at her word and didn't worry.

Until I got up yesterday morning early to get to work early, and said to HB "think of me at 8 a.m. will you? I have a hinky feeling". Ever the optimist, HB says "why do you always think the worst is going to happen?".

Because history is a great teacher, HB!

I arrive in the deputy's office at 7:55 a.m., and her secretary says "I'll tell them that you're here". I panic, assuming that I'm late. The secretary says "in fact, you're early. They were having a pre-meeting. You know how 'these things' go". To which I say, "these things? ummm no ... should I be concerned?" and she says some general stuff about "you'll be fine; reviewing talent pool; blah blah blah".

I am ushered into the meeting room, to be greeted by the deputy and the HR manager sitting on one side of the table, and no new director anywhere in site.

And then it began. This is not a passing of the supervision. This is a performance review. And not a good one.

By the time I limped out of there, I had been told:

- that I am good at making presentations and have good interpersonal skills;

- that I have taken far too long to achieve the outcomes of this project;

- that I have disappointed her because I didn't deliver on several items (that we had previously agreed were not in scope for this phase but that has been forgotten and I chose not to dispute because, you know, it's the deputy!);

- that I will need to move from my cubicle with a window and in an area where I have some clerical support to a small, middle of the floor with no window cubicle located in the program area and will have no clerical support (remember, I gave up an office with actual walls and a door to take this project on, and have been moved four times now since the start of the project);

- that effective the end of July I will lose the 10% bonus pay I've been receiving since November 2002 because they can no longer justify it;

- that I had to accept I was not going to be the director's equal but that I was going to be reporting to her;

- that there had been a comment that I was taking too much time off to participate in the master's program (I've taken 1.5 days off to study since January 2006); and finally

- that I could continue to lead the employee recognition program until the end of October.

I managed to limp out of there without crying in front of them .... but just barely. I left a tightly controlled voice mail for my former project manager, who has remained a good friend and mentor and is now part of the department's executive team, but she was in meetings all day. I didn't realize how badly I must have sounded until she called me back at home last night in complete panic - she said she thought my other dawg was sick or something, that's how bad I sounded!

I had a regularly scheduled meeting with the new Director for 10:00 a.m. She took one look at me and asked me how it went that morning. I told her I was surprised to see she hadn't been there, and immediately dissolved in tears.

Now I would rather march nekkid down the middle of the street than cry in front of people I don't know. But she was incredible.

She came around her desk, sat down beside me and went into full counselling mode. She explained that she had basically been "uninvited" to the meeting. She led me through a debrief of what had taken place and just listened. She told me that they would begin to make arrangements to have me move into the program area, and I reiterated again how much I'm looking forward to working with and for her, and to learning from her for the rest of this assignment. I didn't get into the fact that I still see this as being a short term assignment and that my plan is to finish the work up and then either find something else (ideally out of the department) or to go back to my old job. I was just too grateful that someone was being kind to me to screw it up at that point, plus I really didn't want to be making statements from a place of anger. Who knows? Maybe I'll get there and decide I love it.

Then she told me to go home for the rest of the day - and that we'd talk about how I could make up that time later. Hmmm. No one ever talked to me about making up time before. No one ever offered to compensate me for all the nights I am there until 8 p.m. either. Whatever. I just said I'd take a half vacation day. I'm beyond caring.

But I did keep my lunch appointment, which ironically was with a classmate who has quickly become a friend, and who just happens to be the senior consultant for executive recruitment for the provincial civil service. While we were eating lunch, the deputy minister for the public service commission came over to say hello, and to congratulate me on the role I had played last week in designing and delivering a corporate recognition training program for 90 staff from across all government departments for his department. The irony just never ceases to amuse me.

So here it is, 5:15 a.m. the next day. My mind was racing so much that I couldn't sleep. I've been up since 4 a.m. drinking coffee and creating this entry - both of which have helped immensely. I am becoming clearer and stronger in knowing what I have to do.

I need to finish this project, and stop worrying about impressing the deputy minister in my department. I just need to worry about doing a good job on the project, and I can learn a lot from this new Director.

I need to have the executive recruiter review my cv as she has offered to do several times now.

I need to keep my eyes open for other opportunities and apply. I need to forget about the return of service agreement I have with my department, accept that I am valued enough by other departments and deputies that they will be willing to honour my agreement if they want me in their department badly enough.

I need to pave the way for a return to my home position if needed, and not feel guilty about the fact that this will displace some other staff. I have to stop worrying about the impact on other people.

I need to remember that if I had ever had to go off on maternity leave, we'd be learning to live on a hell of a lot less than this pay cut is going to be. And I need to remember that we always survive - that it just means a slight adjustment in some spending patterns.

And I need to find my backbone somewhere. Apparently I misplaced it yesterday.

And finally, there is good news. Although I used to enjoy a good smoke after a royal screwing such as this, it never once crossed my mind to go have one yesterday. I guess I am truly a non smoker now.

Free Speech or Defamation?

2006-06-10T19:03:00.000-03:00

When does having an opinion and a right to express it cross the line of expressing an opinion at the expense of someone else? Since joining the blogosphere in August of 2004, I have generally stuck to the world of infertility blogs. Lately though, I've been venturing outside that insular world to see what other topics folks write about.

I have a real interest in the field of social work and public administration. In fact, that's what I do professionally. It's a humbling and complex world to try to get your head around. So when I stumbled across Angela's blog several months ago, I became a regular lurker. I've worked as a caseworker in the type of system she sometimes writes about, and have had the good fortune of having some of the women I worked with become both friends and coworkers. But we rarely talk about the truth of what they experienced in our system. We can talk about the system itself, what worked, what didn't ... but really getting a chance to hear how they felt about being a part of it doesn't come easily. It's such an intensely personal thing, and after all, don't we all save our intensely personal sharings for the anonymity of the internet? I, for one, seem to do that!

So I have felt humbled and honoured to have been able to peek in on her world - the emotions of which are not so very different from other moms with kids, daughters with families, working parents with jobs, citizen in a community, that I have met....or my own emotions.

The challenges of her world, however, are totally different. She faces challenges daily around access to resources, dealing with stereotypes, people judging without any basis upon which to form the judgment, and feeling like you're swimming upstream against the tide of people in society. She juggles children, a part time job, school. In short, I think she's pretty amazing.

So when I logged on the other day to find that someone had decided to exercise her right to "free speech" by trashing Angela's lifestyle and choices, I couldn't help but go visit that someone's blog. Turns out she claims to be a government worker employed in the social service sector. That scares me. Edited to note that the blog entry I was linking to and had referenced in this post has now been closed down by the blog owner. I'm hoping it's out of respect although I sense from the tone of the vague entry thanking for the fish/traffic, it's not.

So tell me....when does the blogger's right to free speech turn into libel?

ER - the cure for pain

2006-06-05T20:31:00.000-03:00

The prospect of a child free weekend with no commitments was obviously too much for me to handle. It threw me into a tail spin of stress, resulting in my spending last night in emergency at the local hospital, hooked up to a cardio machine, receiving regular injections of morphine, and periodic EKG tests.

Yep. Everything is fine, as it turns out. The official diagnosis? "Sometimes people just have aches and pains that cannot be diagnosed".

HB was out on Sunday, doing his usual Sunday thing (exercise, paddle, band practice). I was at home, studying, determined to get a jump on this week's assignments so I wouldn't be stressed. I had been to Mass earlier in the morning, and had noticed that I was having a hard time catching my breath. As I studied, I became aware of a tightening across my chest, up under my armpit, and a tingling painy kind of sensation in my left arm.

I of course did what every sane person does. I ignored it.

But it wouldn't go away. When HB called at 3:00 to see how things were going, I described my physical state to him. He immediately ordered my ass down to emergency. I am so not a drain on our medical system. I'm the one who had to be reminded that telling one's repro specialist when one miscarries is standard practice, remember?

Anyhow, down I went, feeling quite foolish. As I sat in the chairs waiting to speak to the triage nurse, I noticed the woman ahead of me was crying. Her husband had dropped her at the door while he parked the car. Seconds later he came running in, and very protectively stood beside her. In an instant, I knew. And I was right. She was pregnant and was having a bleed. I knew all too well what they were going to experience next as this was the exact emergency room we went to when I had my first bleed with Brodie.

I am seen after them, and state my case matter of factly. I hate those "on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being least and 10 being most painful, how would you rate your pain" questions because I always feel like there are right and wrong answers!

I must have given the right answers because I watched the young couple looking at me curiously as I was taken right back and they sat, bleeding, in the chairs of the waiting room.

So...note to self. If you ever present at an emergency room as a middle aged, overweight woman who says she's having pressure in the chest area, be prepared to camp out! I arrived there at about 4:00 p.m. Sunday and got home at noon on Monday.

I gained a whole new admiration for emergency room staff.

The elderly gentleman (Cecil) in the 'room' next to mine came in with a bleeding hernia, a distraught family including a 7 year old grandchild, and no chance of survival. He died alone at 7:30 a.m. after the morning shift inserted a cathetar, and only one hour after his son had left him to go home for a few hours.

A young woman was brought in by her mother. She had taken a shitload of some kind of drug that made her entirely too chatty for 3:00 a.m. Apparently she hates social services because they took her kid, and her mother is an idiot. These were the two items repeated over and over again most of the night.

Then there was the old doll in another curtain who was completely disoriented and a carrier of something that required the nursing staff to don new gowns and masks every time they went in to see her. I can't remember the acronoym and wish I could because I meant to look it up to see what may have been floating through the ER last night....Cecil in the next curtain was a carrier as well. Anyhow, this elderly woman woke up every 20 minutes and yelled "NURSE!" very loudly. Then the very loud nurse would don gown and mask, go in and tell her where she was, what time it was, and that she needed to get some sleep.

Or how about the obviously drugged up kid that was brought in by ambulance that punched the young doctor, who was already having a lousy morning, square in the nose? This punch caused said young doctor to yell "sit down and shut up ... and get me security NOW". Yet he still finished treating the kid and writing up his chart.

And of course, the young couple who had come in before me, had to wait to be seen, and then were sent home long before me because, after all, we've all heard what they were told. If you're going to lose the baby, there's not much we can do. Go home, take it easy and monitor yourself. I watched the young husband gently lead his sobbing wife back out through the automatic doors and I said a prayer for them and their baby. Maybe they can be the ones who defy the odds. Please.

And in the midst of it all, there I lay ... hooked up to a blood pressure cuff, iv in my hand (ouch), wired for sound to that cardio machine, and tripping on morphine.

Sometimes people just have aches and pains that can't be diagnosed. There were a lot of aches and pains there last night - few of the medical but many of the loneliness kind.

8 - 18 and still in love

2006-06-01T21:39:00.000-03:00

You know how when you've been living in and with something for so long, and you're consumed with it, and then it finally happens? What comes after that?

I've thought about posting a couple of times, but then I think, about what? I was so consumed with nursing Barkley and then he passed. It was hard, peaceful, challenging, calming ... it just was. It sucked. But it was.

I'm amazed at how at peace I am with it. He was an amazing part of our lives and will always be our first Newfie love. I am getting one of the pictures we took blown up and giving it to HB for Father's Day. We received the call today that his ashes are ready to be picked up. We have friends who have this great piece of land out on the ocean, not too far from where we are, and they are going to let us bury him there. We want to have a little ceremony of some kind - the kids had asked if we could.

We have had some stuff happen of late this is post-worthy, though.

HB's sister and her husband have split up. When I think of a couple that I would say "least likely to split up", it's these two. HB has always said that he and I could have fun in a ditch together, and I would say these two could have that same kind of fun.

He came home one night after their 18th anniversary and basically told her he didn't love her.

It got me thinking, so tonight at supper I asked HB if he thought that could ever happen to us. That's right up there with the "do these pants make my ass look fat" or "which of my girlfriends would you date if I died" questions.

And here is why I love this husband of mine.

He proceeded to tell me about a conversation he had with his 25 year old work out buddy tonight. This young guy is a med student, and a very nice guy who comes over regularly for supper with us. He was telling HB about a party that he's invited to on the weekend. HB jokingly asked him if there was room in the car for an old man like him, and of course, Dr. WorkOut said "Nope...you're too much the life of the party and I want a chance with the women that will be there!!"

My incredible husband looked him in the eye and told him that he wouldn't trade one ounce of the peace, serenity and love he had at home with me for a chance with another woman. He went on to say that he acknowledged that there may be women who have "tighter bodies" (his words) than mine is right now, but that he'd rather wake up to my love and personality every morning instead of falling for a tight body that turns into a bitch in six months.

Now some people might think me weird for loving my husband for saying these kinds of things, but I adore him for saying it! I know I have a weight issue - I've put on 52 lbs since I first met HB. He is a total athlete and in incredible shape. We are oil and water in that way. I'd take the car to walk the dawg if I could, where he thinks nothing of running 20 minutes one way to the store. And yet, he looks at me and loves me - regardless of whether I'm wearing a size 8 or 18. He understands that the weight is my issue, and that I will deal with it when I'm ready to do so. And in the meantime, it just doesn't matter because, as he says, I have the same personality that he fell in love with when I was a size 8.

He told me tonight that he falls in love a little more with me every day we're together.

How can I not feel blessed?

In Memory of Barkley

2006-05-20T22:30:00.000-03:00

It's been a tough day. Full of firsts. The first morning not worrying about whether I'm up early enough to give Barkley his medication, or asking HB "how did the dawg do last night?". The first time we went shopping for dawg treats and spent less than twenty bucks. The first time I only had to fill one bowl for supper. No need to sit in the basement chair holding the bowl because there was no big dawg eating from my lap ... no sharing of pats while he ate his supper.

HB has been having a hard time. Barkley was his first dawg, and they adored each other. Because Frodo and Mini-Me were here last night, and because Frodo threw a drama fit, HB didn't really get a chance to say goodbye to Barkley.

He's really feeling it today, and I can't figure out how to help him. I did show him some video that I had taken of Barkley over the last weeks. And then we went and got two films developed. Here is some of what we found on that film. This post is in memory of our sweet, goofy Barkley. God speed big man.

The Sky Fell

2006-05-19T22:11:00.000-03:00

Big Dawg, whose real name is Barkley, left us this evening.

He didn't get any better on Thursday, and this morning when I woke up I knew we would be making the appointment either today or tomorrow. As the morning wore on, I knew that I had crossed the line from making him comfortable for him to being selfish in keeping him here. HB called at 11:11 (angel time in my life) from school, and I told him that I was going to make the appointment for this evening. I called our clinic and was given an appointment for 6:40 p.m. - the last appointment of the day.

I spent all of the last hours that we had alone in the house here just sitting on the basement floor with him. He wouldn't eat or drink, so we just hung out and talked. I swear he nodded at me a few times. In fact, once I said "did you just nod?" and he nodded! He always was a smart guy ... understood every word we were saying and could put us on ignore when it was convenient.

Frodo and Mini-Me ended up coming to us unexpectedly tonight, which turned into a mixed blessing. Mini-Me joined Barkley and I on the floor, and my heart broke as he cuddled his buddy and sobbed. Then he started to tell me about a book that he had read at school that spoke of a bridge that dogs cross, and when they cross they are given a drink from a fountain called the fountain of memory. This drink lets them remember all the good things about the people who love them. (This 8 year old never ever fails to amaze me) Through his sobs he said "I want Barkley to remember that I love him, and that I fed him cookies, and that I didn't want him to go yet".

When it got close to the time, we got Barkley up. He walked on his own, with just a little help, to the truck. He has never just lay in the truck for any trip, but tonight he just lay down. There is no doubt in my mind that he was ready to cross tonight.

We walked into the clinic and his favourite vet assistant was working. She took us all into the room where she had made the most awesome, comfy bed for him on the floor. He immediately lay down right on the bed. She cuddled him for a bit before leaving. They let us have some time with him in there, and then the vet came in.

We had decided that HB would go with the kids to the waiting area while I stayed with Barkley. I thought I was really going to mind it, but in the end, it was a blessing for me to be alone with him. As HB said, it was a fitting end. I brought him home from the SPCA alone (we weren't married when Barkley and I found each other) and I brought him home to the bridge alone.

Barkley placed his head in my lap and locked eyes with me. I stroked his head, and told him it was ok, and how very much I loved him. The vet and the tech were both telling him what a good guy he was ... and how strong and brave he was ... and what a good friend he was. His paw sagged as the light faded from his eyes. He gave a very large, relieved sigh .... and a few seconds later, gave a second softer, peace filled sigh. And it was done. Two months to the day since he was diagnosed.

We covered him with a blanket. They left me with him and I was able to say goodbye on my own. I put his head gently down on the pillows. He looked like he always did when he lay in his wonky leg position on the floor at home.

And then I gathered my little family up and came home to our Sheba girl. She got some extra lovings tonight as a thank you for her patience and kindness toward her buddy the last few weeks.

Thank you all for your care and concern over these past two months. I also found an amazing amazing message board that has been an incredible source of support to me. If any of you love big dawgs, then check out http://bigpawsonly.com/ . What an amazing group of people.

Go give your dawgs a big hug from me tonight.

Whispering softly....

2006-05-17T23:44:00.000-03:00

It's been five days since my last update, and once again I feel like the sky might be kind of falling down ... but I'm afraid to say it out loud. So I'll just kind of whisper it.

We had a great weekend. The kids were here all weekend, and surprisingly, Knothead didn't make a great display about needing them home with her when she woke up on Mother's Day. So I got to spend the morning helping them get ready to celebrate Mother's Day with her. Hmmm. What's wrong with that picture? But how do you say no to a kid who is asking you to help him make a card? I can't do it.

After we dropped them off, we loaded Big Dawg into the truck, along with HB's mother, and headed up to my sister's campground for an old fashioned family bitch fest. My family definitely puts the fun in dysfunctional when we're all together, and I love every moment of it.

They were delighted to see Big Dawg and kept getting annoyed with me referring to it as his farewell tour ... but really ... it probably was! We took him on short walks around the grounds and up through the woods. We fed him up good and let him lay around the deck soaking up the sun. He slept all the way home, and didn't seem to have over done it. The next two days he was more energetic and his appetite is astounding!

Today we came home from work to find him standing at the bottom of the stairs, unable to get up them at all. When I got him to walk toward me, it became apparent that his hind right leg is in trouble. He was "knuckling" ... which means just that ... walking on his knuckles on that paw.

I called our Dr. Awesomes, who told us to bring him in right away. He has preferred customer status there and they are so good to us.

She said it could be an injury, in which case the high dosage of prednozone that he's on and rest tonight should clear it up. She said it could also be neurological, and that a tumor or lymph node could be swollen to the point that it's pressing on his nerves, causing him to lose control of that back leg and not even realize that he's knuckling, in which case we're on the downward spiral and should consider euthenasia.

He was in obvious distress, but we chose not to medicate him any further. The only pain control he could be offered was morphine and we would have had to monitor his heart and everything. We just brought him home, and made him comfortable. If he's still not doing well in the morning, we'll take him down to the vet office for the day where they will be able to help him with the pain, monitor him and keep him until we can make whatever decisions we have to make.

Here's the kicker. It will be eight full weeks on Friday since he's been diagnosed. We were told he might have four weeks, so we've been on bonus time for the last four weeks. Throughout these eight weeks, I've been able to take a fair amount of time to work from home and be with him, take him to appointments, monitor him, etc. HB has even taken a day off here and there which is much harder for him to manage.

Tomorrow, however, neither of us can take off ... and we have to be out tomorrow night for a few hours as well. I have a major presentation to make. I've been building toward it for months now, and people are coming in from various parts of the province to be there. HB teaches at two schools, and one of the schools has its spring musical tomorrow night. He has rehearsals all day and then of course the play tomorrow evening. I was supposed to be helping him out tomorrow night, but may find myself unable to do so.

As long as I don't find myself back at the vet's, saying goodbye.

Besides ... how do I dare make this decision? Every time I whisper "the sky is falling", he proves me wrong. I want him to do that one more time. Keep that damn sky where it belongs.

Reprieve

2006-05-12T17:21:00.000-03:00

I swear that I am not related to Chicken Little.

The sky did not fall down on Thursday, as previously posted and anticipated! Big Dawg spent all of Wednesday night lying on the basement floor.....came around only to eat some chicken and rice that I cooked up for him.

I cried until I had no more tears left. I slept on the basement floor with him, until 5 a.m. at which time he nudged me to wake up and let him outside.

When I brought him back in, he headed straight for his food bowl where his uneaten supper from the day before remained. I held it out for him and scarf.............gone!

By noon time, he was hanging out upstairs with me ... something he hasn't done in weeks.

By mid-afternoon I knew that there would be no final drive being taken that day.

Yes, my boy has rallied and decided to not only stick around, but perk up! He's the most highly medicated dawg in the neighbourhood, but hey, he's still here! And truly, we're not just keeping him around and fooling ourselves. The vet thinks that he had contracted an infection that sapped his appetite and caused his paw to swell up. The antibiotic seems to be helping significantly (at $10 per pill it should) and so we're in for a week's worth of that stuff.

And appetite? He ate the dawg food PLUS the chicken and rice last night and again this morning.

Maybe I'm going to have a half decent Mother's Day for once in my life, eh?

Not Long Now

2006-05-10T19:15:00.000-03:00

and it will be over.

Big Dawg has lost his appetite. His right leg has swollen up, and he is no longer interested in moving off the basement floor.

HB and I have decided to take tomorrow off work. We will go buy him a great big t-bone steak, apples, grapes, cookies ... all the things he hasn't been able to have since this lousy cancer was diagnosed.

We will feed him well. We will cuddle him and love him up.

And then we will take that last drive to the vet's clinic.

My heart is breaking at the thought of it.

A Week in the Life of...without pictures

2006-05-06T08:40:00.000-03:00

My friend Grins recently had a very cool post entitled "A Day In The Life of..." which depicts a day in the life of (smart huh?) all in pictures. Very cool. Perhaps I will do that some day soon. Only that would involved dragging me more than ample arse into this century and purchasing some sort of camera device that could actually allow me to post pictures directly to the web without first going through the whole "take my pictures to Walmart and get them put on a disc" thing.

So...what's up with our house and home this week some of you have asked? Tremendously exciting things ... we're just impossible to keep up with! (ed: snort!)

First, and most importantly, Big Dawg is still a vibrant part of the family. We are now into the seventh week since his diagnosis, and he's showing no signs of slowing down. One of the lymph nodes was a bit swollen last week, so Dr. Awesome upped the prednozone. He's on about 650 mg per day. When it is time for me to go, someone please put me on prednozone. Pullleeeazzzze. You eat like a horse, crave nothing but water, and lose weight! Seriously! Why hasn't someone turned me onto this drug a long time ago???

HB's band (aptly called Men w/ Issues) is playing at a happening local bar this weekend. This bar has a wicked step leading out of the place that averages four drunken falls per gig. Last night we were sitting at the table right beside this step, being the good groupies that we are, when this poor woman comes careening down the step directly at me. I think I spent too much time with the kids last week. Barely missing a beat in the conversation, I reached out and caught her. She carried on out the door, and I continued talking to my friends, who sat there gobstruck. It was that eye in the back of your head maternal double grab instinct that kicked in. The only problem is mine isn't fully developed (you know...what with only being an evil step mother and all) so my "grab" was really more of a "jack your thumb into the woman's armpit" thing. This morning my thumb is sore, and somewhere in Dartmouth there is a hung over woman waking up with a tender armpit.

New courses began this week. I'm going to be a pasty white chick this summer because of this work load. We registered for paddling the other day, but I'm thinking that's going to be money wasted. These are intense and heavy assignment schedules! Remind me again why I've decided to cram this degree into 24 months while working full time?

Hmmm....just rereading this. Perhaps I should just stay far away from a day in the life of in pictures. Might not be pretty.

Not quite Mole-Asses

2006-04-28T19:50:00.000-03:00

I lost an entire damn post and I was actually quite witty in it too!

Oh well. Here goes again.

As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by blogger losing my post....we've had Mini Me and Frodo with us for the past week. Knothead has gone to a math teacher's conference (I secretly think she's a dominatrix that flies all around the world meeting internets....but I digress....) somewhere in the USA and so the kids arrived here on Tuesday evening.

Along with them came the newest family member....Fluffy the Hamster.

Now when Fluffy was first purchased, she was intended to be a solo pet for Mini Me. Ever since he had heard about Big Dawg, he had been saying he wanted a pet to take care of at his mom's house. Imagine their surprise when Fluffy was joined by five babies a few days after settling into the cage in the rec room!

Yep. Even the hamster is more fertile than the evil stepmother.

However, Fluffy did something that I've only ever dreamed of doing when the boys act up.

Yep. She 'et one. I googled it and apparently it happens with hamsters. They take care of the sick that way. I have often threatened it as a behaviour modification technique myself.

So Fluffy and the Hamlets are ensconced in the computer room with me and truthfully? They freak me out.

They all crowd in together in the little wee room with a view that hangs off the side of the huge cage with all the wheely things. Every once in a while they tussle with each other, which makes my head whip up because I keep thinking Fluffy is cleaning house again. I go over to the cage, and suddenly Fluffy races to the cage to sniff and stare. Protecting her remaining babes, she stands up on those back legs and stares me down.

The Big Dawg had a reasonable check up tonight. One swollen lymph node, so the prednozone is being increased just a tad. He's losing his muscle mass which is hard to watch ... he struggles to get up off the floor at times. But other than that, he's like a pup! He's eating us out of house and home, loving his daily walks, cuddling up on the floor with me at night and just generally living the good life.

Finally, if you want to have a good chuckle, check this video out:

The Beat Goes On....

2006-04-20T19:23:00.000-03:00

Life has been moving on here at the baby-less house of dawgs. I've been in school this week - a new and exciting experience for me. I began studying in a master's program in January. It is a distance program, and each course ends with a two and a half day intensive. It's kind of cool. You spend the whole course talking to classmates and the professor on line through message boards and blogs, and then get to legitimately meet with your internet friends! I'm taking two courses each semester, and am loving it. I began the first intensive on Wednesday and will finish up the second one Monday.

It was interesting - one of the women that I had been 'chatting' with throughout the course stood up from the desk yesterday and only then did I realize that she is very pregnant - due in July. I am so truly on the road to recovery and acceptance. For the first time in a very long time, it didn't fizz me at all. In fact, I am quite happy to be hanging with her, and have been able to ask all the appropriate questions and share in the pregnancy focused discussions at lunch. God, it feels good to be able to do that without feeling like I'm faking it! A milestone for sure.

At the same time, it was fascinating to note how people still don't recognize infertility as a problem. We were having this really cool discussion in the classroom about the problem our province is going to be faced with in the near future when we run out of people to fill jobs because of our declining birthrate. They were kind of pondering why women today weren't having as many children, when I suggested that ummmm perhaps infertility was an issue, along with the usual "women are waiting longer to have children" argument. The response was "nah...not a big problem, and even if it was, what could we do about it?" Hello? How about sinking some money into subsidizing treatments? One of the women laughingly said "treatment? Just give people more booze".....I don't know why I'm still amazed at how people don't get it.

We've also reconnected with HB's uncle. He had been living in a licensed boarding home, took sick and is now living in a transitional unit of the local hospital until he can be placed in a nursing home. He's a smoker, and because it's a hospital setting, no one on staff can take him out for a smoke. We went down last weekend to take him out for lunch and then wheel him around by the water while he chain smoked. It's such a small act on our part, but meant so much to him. Now he calls every day wondering if we can come visit again. Breaks my heart. HB has gone down two more times, and in fact, is there right now. We don't have a lot of extra time in our lives, but if you don't make time for family like this, who will?

And as for Big Dawg ... he's had a bad day or two in the past week, but he's still hanging in. The days weren't bad enough to cause us to make the decision we're dreading. I just hope that we both are given the strength and wisdom we need to know when we have to make that decision. I had him in for a check up on Tuesday evening, and while waiting for the vet to see us, a couple came out who had obviously just had to put their dog to sleep. Everyone was so hushed and expressing their sympathies. The woman was crying, and I couldn't help it ... I had a little cry right along with her. This is so going to suck. Big time.

There ya go. Update from the land of drool. What's up with you?

Leaping in Faith

2006-04-14T13:20:00.000-03:00

Quick update:
We're still all here and hanging in. The big dawg is continuing to have good days and good nights. This prednozone is like grass for dawgs! He's happy, puppyish and when he doesn't have the munchies, he's sleeping! When it's time for me to go, that's the way I want to do it.

We're still spending much free time hanging with both of the dawgs. Taking lots of walks, albeit shorter than what we used to, and just basically cuddling. I've undone every bit of obedience training that HB did with the big guy ... even to the point of having him up on the couch (a total, absolute, no-no in our home) the other night. To quote a country song, my give-a-damn's busted around that piece of obedience. I'm taking tons of pictures and enjoying these good days. It's been three weeks today since the diagnosis.

Landseer Newfs are a rarity around here. We've already begun talking about our desire to have another newf in our home - actually we had been talking about it before this guy got sick even. He has been the best pet! They take a bit more work in terms of grooming and watching their hips etc, but are so worth it. I'd have 10 of them if I had the room. So, we're beginning to interview breeders. I've never in my life paid for a purebred dawg. This guy came from the SPCA. Imagine. Imagine! Who in their right freaking mind would let a beauty like him go to the SPCA? Oh well. My gain.

We're off to celebrate Easter this weekend ... and I am actually singing a psalm at Good Friday service today. With an organ. And no practice. Hmmm. A leap of faith indeed!

Cuddling and crying

2006-04-04T20:03:00.000-03:00

You guys are awesome...thanks for checking in on us.

We're taking it a day at a time. The prednozone is keeping him happy thus far. We're not seeing too many of the side effects that we were warned about. He's pretty energetic, although he is drinking a lot of water. We're noticing a few more accidents in the house the last two days.

What's weird is that the 'little' dawg seems to know what's going on. They seem to be distancing themselves from each other. No one will ever be able to tell me that dawgs don't understand what's going on - they are incredibly intelligent.

In the meantime, we're all just spending as much time together as we can. We're taking a lot of walks, cuddling on the blanket together, and just generally hanging out. I'm better now in that I can at least talk about it without crying ... the one day at a time approach is helping.

Thanks for all the positive thoughts - we'll take each and every one of them!

Dawg Update

2006-03-28T15:23:00.000-04:00

It's not going to be a happy ride, but ride we will.

The test results from the aspirated lymphnodes came back yesterday. It has been diagnosed as "immune high grade malignant lymphoma", which in lay people's terms means "it sucks and is spreading quickly".

We started him on the prednozone Friday night. We were told to watch for excessive drinking and urinating, along with laboured breathing. If we saw any of that, the dose was too high and we'd have to adjust. So far, a little more drinking than usual but nothing to be concerned about. He's still making it through the night without having an accident in the house.

What sucks is that if I didn't know he was sick, I would never know he's sick.

He's eating like a horse. He's a little slower on our walks, but his coat is beautiful, and for the first time since we've had him, he's not drooling nearly as much as usual.

He's loving the extra attention and treats. I'm curling up on the floor with him regularly. He lays his head in my lap and cuddles in.

We are going to switch him to a low protein diet tomorrow. The vet consulted with the food company we've always bought from - there's some research out there that says a higher fat diet that is lower in protein and sugar doesn't give the cancer the energy it needs. I'm completely into stealing cancer's energy. Completely.

I'm trying so hard to focus on the good days and nights. I'm trying to enjoy the minutes, hours and days we're having together.

Then something happens like HB walks into the house, like he did last night. And Big Dawg goes bounding over to him, tail wagging, so delighted to see his dad. And they wrestle a bit.

And I see the sole tear sneak out of HB's eye.

And my heart breaks.

Why I Hate Ultrasounds - by Sandy

2006-03-24T20:04:00.000-04:00

The last time I was in a room with an ultrasound machine, I was told that my baby had died.

Tonight I was in another room with an ultrasound machine and I was told that my dawg is going to die.

My big Newfie dawg has lymphoma. It has spread to his spleen and liver. We could treat with chemo. The chemo and associated treatments would take about four months of weekly poking, prodding and would be fairly invasive - not to mention expensive for a dog his size.

Or we can treat with prednozone, which will reduce the swelling in the masses we found tonight, will help to stop the diarhhea, and will give him some quality of life for the next four to six months.

But it won't take away the cancer.

And he will either die or we will have to put him down in the next four to six months.

I hate ultrasounds.

Do these pants make my ass look fat?

2006-03-23T09:36:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure what the purpose of this blog is anymore. As I have been saying more and more of late, it's become obvious to me that I continue to, and always will be, an infertile woman who will not bear children of her own.

Adoption is not in our future. For HB and I, it's not about having children per se, so much as it is about having biological children of our own. There are two children in our lives already.

My life itself is motoring along such that it doesn't seem a blog about it would be of much interest to anyone but me.

Blogging is a funny thing eh? I bet if we did a poll, and really encouraged people to be totally honest with themselves, most would say that although we claim to blog for ourselves, we are all aware that others around the world may read it. And that begins to factor in to what we say, or don't say. And we are aware of comments, or lack thereof. And we wonder if people find us interesting ... and we wish to be part of the 'in' group of bloggers. Right? If you were being really honest with yourself, would that be the case for you?

I know it is for me some days. Not always, but some days. Like today.

Some days, I come here and truly don't give a rat's ass who is reading. I write, dump, vent, get all the crap out of my system so that I can go back downstairs and jump back into the step-mess that goes on in this house at times.

Then there are days when I'm keenly aware that there might be three people out there who actually check in here once in a while. And I worry. Am I really this boring??? In real life, I'm not boring ... or at least I don't think that I am. But in real life, I'm in touch with people for a reason. And I'm not totally consumed with talking about myself all the time. Ok ... sometimes I am, but not always!

In real life, I have conversation with people. Conversation is a two way affair. I ask questions (which I'm told I'm very good at doing ... all those years of being a counsellor pay off at times), and then I get answers. I share common interests with most of the folks that I spend time with - and I have many interests!

And there's the rub. This blog has primarily been about my infertility, my struggle to have a child, my obsession with conceiving. And that's what I have in common with the few people that comment here.

So I'm curious. If you read here on any kind of regular basis (and I know that there are some 40 regular daily visitors by my stat counter - not just google hits), help me out.

How can we have some conversation? Is there something you're curious about in my life that you'd like to hear more about? And what is there about you that I should know? I'm curious! Where are you from? What brought you to this blog in the first place? What keeps you coming back? Are you a step parent? Do you love music? Are you a spiritual person? What do we have in common?

I challenge every reader here to leave a comment - and this isn't a comment beg - it's more about expanding my horizons. Please leave a comment that tells me one thing about you, and challenges me to engage in conversation here.

So yeah, I'm asking the question that's right up there with the "do these pants make my ass look fat" one. How can I spice up this little corner of my world on the internet?

Oh...and by the way....go visit my talented and oh so wickedly charming friend Grins and have some Amer*can Id*l fun with her new blog!

I could have danced all night....

2006-03-14T08:52:00.000-04:00

Isn't it time for a positive post from Sandy? Why yes, yes it is!

Let's get the big surprise over with first.

I'm not pregnant this month.

Yes I know. I'm as shocked as you, but oh well. I'll just relax (pamprin helps immensely with the relaxing thing) and continue moving on.

I know I've said it before but as the months go on, I am actually becoming increasingly at peace with knowing that we will not have a child of our own. Mini-Me and Frodo are consuming more and more time, energy and space. I think that we are being called to focus on these two little guys, and I'm finding more patience to do so and to be present to them of late.

My big dawg is on the mend. We had a completely poop free night last night (yay!). When HB came in to the room to wake me, the first thing I asked was whether Big Dawg had had a good night. HB answered yes, and that he had been up three times during the night to let him out. The funny thing is that I had also been up three times to let him out! The poor buggar - didn't have a chance to sleep let alone think about pooping in the house! The vet gave him some medication yesterday that we've used on him in the past when this has happened. The last time it worked within 24 hours. Seems like that's the case again this time. It will be nice to have them back around the upstairs of the house instead of in the basement full time. Our dusty rose carpets just couldn't handle any more though! I had them cleaned last week and we're working hard to keep them that way for a few days anyhow. You can sure tell that I bought this house as a single woman - dusty rose carpets - even I laugh at myself now as I watch two dawgs, two kids and countless neighbour kids tromp through this place with hockey sticks, skateboards, roller blades and the like!

My voice is making a come back ... both literally and figuratively. Literally in that yesterday I actually was able to speak out loud and be heard, without too much cracking or leaving of said voice.

Figuratively because within hours of the last post, HB and I sat at the kitchen table and had one of our amazing heart to hearts. Even though I express great frustration here at times, I fall a little more in love with this man every day. I was able to tell him quite honestly that I didn't always feel able to express to him my need for time with him because I know how pulled he is with everyone else drawing on his time, but that I needed him to make me and us a priority. I know that these are old tapes that play for me - this fear that by telling someone what I really need, they will pick up and leave. He has never demonstrated that result to me. We have discussions (just like we do with the kids) that 'no' or 'sorry' is sometimes a possible answer, but that answer is no reflection of our love for each other.

This living in a healthy relationship is confusing at times! It can sometimes be so much easier to revert to familiar, unhealthy dance steps ... but when your partner insists on leading the right way, you only end up tromping on toes with those bad steps. I'm glad I'm learning to dance properly. And what a dance ... what an amazing dance!

Silenced.

2006-03-11T12:02:00.000-04:00

For someone who is actually quite happy in every day real life, I seem to bitch a lot here on this blog. Perhaps that's what allows me to maintain my happiness in every day real life ... I don't know. Regardless, this is likely to be yet another piss and moan post. I always seem to feel better once I've got it out of my system - almost like I've said it for real out loud. Bet a shrink would have a heyday with that ... passively aggressively getting stuff out in an online diary and then moving back through life in a cloud of avoidance. Hmmmm.

Anyhow, on to the rant! As I said several weeks ago, HB, darling man that he is, has no ability to prioritize what is important to say yes to in his daily life. Consequently, he says yes to everything and then our home life ends up bearing the brunt of (1) his absence and (2) his crankiness.

When we got home from the benefit late last Saturday night, HB went directly to bed. He was exhausted and still had another full day ahead on Sunday. I take a bit longer to unwind, so I putted around a bit, took a bath and then crawled into bed at about 2 a.m. I'm just drifting off to sleep when I hear the big dawg rumbling around and around and around on the main floor. I finally go down to investigate. As I hit the bottom step I see it .... thankfully before stepping too much further.... he has the diarrhea. And he has, in his panic, walked around the kitchen, living room, dining room and hall several times.

Did I mention that we have dusty rose carpets in three of those four rooms?

And that it's 2:30 a.m.?

Whatever. I get the cleaning stuff out, put the dawg outside, and spend the next hour on my hands and knees, cleaning up. HB wakes the next morning, wondering why there are wet spots all over the carpets. I explain what happened. The important part of this story is that HB woke up the next morning.

Monday I wake up as sick as a dawg (pun intended) myself. I spent the entire day sleeping, when I wasn't throwing up or trying to down water so I'd at least have something in my system to throw up. Tuesday was a bit better, but I was still not 100%. Clammy, cold, hot, tired, that kind of stuff. At 5:30 Wednesday morning, I'm awoken to the lovely sound of doors slamming, and HB's voice loudly chanting his favourite string of curse words while he bangs around. I bolt out of bed to see what's up.

The dawg has had another rough night.

HB's response? He goes downstairs to the basement and comes up with a paint spackler and bucket. He proceeds to lift up the stuff and fling it into the bucket. Then....

....he sits down and eats his breakfast.

W. T. F.??????????????????

So I, without the least bit of resentment (sarcasm intended) get back on my hands and knees, sick as a dog still, and go back through the rooms scrubbing the carpets again. 50 minutes into it, when there are precisely two stains left, he comes out to help. I couldn't even talk to him I was so pissed. I got up, showered, dressed and went to work. They sent me home because I was still so sick. I came home, called the carpet cleaners and then proceeded to work from home, preparing for a full day workshop I was facilitating on Thursday. I had to stop at about 5 because I had made arrangements for us to take Frodo and Mini-Me to a junior A hockey game here. My friend's son plays and she was making arrangements for the kids to go to the dressing room for an autograph session. I had to go because she had never met HB or the kids, so if I wasn't there, no one would find each other.

Frodo shows up in his usual "the world owes me" mentality, sticking attitude out all over the place. HB is bitching about how this was a good idea at the time, and Mini-Me and are both sick. I'm also thinking about the four hours of work I still have ahead of me to get to the point that I'm ready for the workshop the next day.

I could go on about that night but suffice to say that Frodo was a little jerk all night; HB never corrected him; I hit the point that I just didn't give a shit anymore so that's how the night went. We got home at 11, I came into my office here and worked until 2:30 getting ready for the session the next day.

Still sick on Thursday but no choice about doing this workshop. Which results in my finally losing my voice.

Which wouldn't have been bad except that we had committed to sing for an hour on Friday night. We had made the commitment months ago. HB of course, had forgotten the date, and agreed to take Frodo to his hockey game, 30 minutes out of town. The game started at 7 pm, and we were scheduled to sing at 9 p.m.

When he arrived at the venue at 8:30, kids in tow, I had our guitars and everything set up, but of course .... little problem..... had no freaking voice with which to sing!!! Every time he had called on Friday I would say to him "I'm not going to be able to sing" to which he'd say "drink neo citran...you'll be fine".

So instead he sang...with Frodo hanging inappropriately in his complete neediness, off his shoulder, singing directly into the mic in his totally off key and flat voice. He did a great job of all of the songs, and then tried to do the closing song we had planned. But it was in my key - so he tried to transpose on the spot. And it didn't work.

For the first time since I've known him, he was totally unprofessional. He sang the first verse, got into the refrain, knew it was way off, stopped, unplugged his guitar, took the kids and walked out. Left me there to answer (in my non-voice) the folks that had asked us to play.

Whatever.

They asked me what was up with him, and I just told them to ask him directly - I was not about to try to guess or defend him.

I'm too sick (literally) and tired (figuratively) to even give a shit anymore. I keep thinking back to a comment that Knothead made to me very early on in my relationship with HB. She had called me one night to bitch about him - highly inappropriate but for some reason, the exes always seem to like me and feel comfortable to talk to me - and said "be careful. He was nice to me when I first met him too".

Now even though I know that Knothead and I are night and frigging day, that comment keeps sneaking into my head. He's been so cranky of late, and hard to live with. I see glimpses (when I actually see him) of the man I love, but they are few and far between these days. He falls asleep on the couch. Our love life is non-existant, and although I resent the hell out of not seeing him, I feel guilty for asking for time.

This isn't the way it's meant to be. I know it will pass, and that we will talk it out - we always do - we're way to frigging healthy. But I'm always thankful that I can come here and get the attitude out of my system before I go into those talks with him. It really helps me to frame what I know needs to be said in a way that's not blameful.

But you know what? I'm tired of that too.

I want to yell, scream, throw some shit, blame and get that out of my system.

And I would.

But I have no voice!!!!

The night I learned vagina is not a dirty word

2006-03-06T23:43:00.000-04:00

I had a friend who was a networker. Sylvia was one of those people who made efforts to draw people together. She was amazing. She died of cancer on September 14, 2004 and I wrote about her in my blog on that day. She was about 17 years older than me, but we had a bond. In fact, she has a daughter who is my age, but it was always the mom that I hung out with - in fact we worked together. There was a group of us that used to spend time together, mostly because we were all working for the same non-profit organization and didn't have the sense to know when to go home. We became family to each other. One of the women became my housemate. I was her maid of honour when she married. Another one was the emcee at my first just-for-a-minute-by-mistake event, and Sylvia gave a toast that I still remember.

After her death, that group came together to organize a benefit in her name. Her greatest wish was that her grandson, who lives with autism, would have a companion dog. That goal was achieved and the dog is now fully integrated into their home.

We swore that we wouldn't let so much time pass without seeing each other again. That was April 2005.

In the midst of all the craziness that's been happening in my life - school, kids, work, HB's struggles - I realized what I was missing.

Women!

I was missing my women friends. The ones that I can just hang out with, laugh with, be serious with, cry with, eat with, just be with .... I missed my women friends.

So I emailed the little group. We got together tonight for dinner (amazing greek food), tons of conversation and then went to the an event that I believe every woman should attend at least once in her life. The Vagina Monologues.

If you have one, go be part of an event in your area.

I laughed, cried, sat in awed shock, amazement, cried a bit more and then laughed again.

I'd love to be on the stage next year. We'll see.

Once again, Sylvia reached out and networked among us. Brought us together in a way that only true women friends can be brought together.

Go see it. You won't regret it.

Sadness abounds

2006-03-03T23:25:00.000-04:00

There's been a number of sad situations touch our lives of late. First, a friend disappeared over a month ago now. This is someone that HB knew through music - this guy is an awesome drummer. No word on what's happened to him.

Then just over a week ago, a young woman who was involved with paddling at the same club to which we belong disappeared while paddling in Germany. She was an accomplished paddler, and the whole situation remains completely unexplained. We will participate in a benefit for her family tomorrow evening where HB's band will play. It's a weird thing - benefits. Usually put together for a sad reason, you encourage people to come sing, dance, drink and spend money. It's like having fun because someone's hurting. Weird. But there we'll be.

And in the midst of all the sadness, I'm struck by just how very blessed I am.

We had a rare evening together where we could just get caught up before Frodo and Mini-Me arrived for the evening. They bounded in, fresh from an outdoor hockey game, asking for blankets, pillows and hot chocolate. We obliged, and soon we were all cuddled up watching tv.

As my three guys snore gently in the next room, I send up a prayer of thanks for my blessings. I also send prayers of strength to two other families who are not feeling so blessed this evening.

I love this man!

2006-02-26T07:52:00.000-04:00

Thank goodness for this blog! I swear it's what's going to keep my marriage healthy. I can come here, vent, get my thoughts and frustrations out and then go back into whatever the situation is composed.

We are going to be just fine. And thanks for all the support guys. As usual, Sarah was bang on in her comments. He is getting ready to make some changes. High on the list of changes is the place at which our marriage sits in his order of priorities. Believe it or not, that's where he was headed all the time ... we just have different ways of communicating about it with each other.

I think what happens for both of us is that we are so accustomed to serenity and peace these days, that when a blip appears on the serenity radar now and doesn't get handled right away, it appears to become a mountain. Back in the day, we were both so accustomed to traversing mountain peaks and valleys. Didn't feel like we were living if we didn't climb at least one mountain per day to plummet down into the depths of the valley! We wouldn't even have thought of staying put on the plains for a day ... where was the excitement in that??? Now...we love us them plains. We have erected a home on the plains, and put down roots. So when a dip in the plain appears, it confuses us.

We went to our regular community meeting on Wednesday night, and the speaker that night was obviously meant to speak directly to us! Love it when that happens. It's not so much what she said (she was telling her story) but rather that for both of us, we had this lightbulb moment. We weren't sitting together as we usually do at these meetings. HB was several rows behind me but we both had the moment at the same time.

We understood how far down we had been in our past, and from where we had been picked up. And as HB said when he spoke, he understood that the things he was looking at today as obstacles....obligations....irritants....were the very things he had lost at one point. Family, friends, jobs, community, status, respect, love.

We went home and had that overdue heart to heart. I told him about the buttons that had been pushed and how I had been beating myself up over my need to fix reaction. I also had to admit to feeling a bit of guilt, because when that 'just for a minute by mistake' guy was going through the depression, I didn't feel the need to fix. I just felt the frustration of being inconvenienced. As much as I hate to compare HB to that one, in moments like that there is good that comes out of such a comparison. I understand that I am truly and absolutely, sincerely in love with and loved back by this awesome man. That love is further evidenced in that we are both so willing to take the action that is needed to make our lives together the best that it can possibly be.

Let's just say that we're not sleeping with our backs to each other any longer. 'Nuff said.

Poor poor pitiful me

2006-02-23T09:20:00.000-04:00

You know I love my husband. You only have to read the many posts around our marriage to understand how very much I love him. But right now I'm struggling. A lot.

HB is depressed. He told me last weekend that he believes he is burning out. He is beyond busy, that's for sure. He is a music teacher and has responsibility for two schools. That means double everything - two choirs, two bands, two musicals, two concerts....not to mention double the classload and having to remember over 600 students. It's a lot. Plus the board that he works for is, as most boards are, severely underfunded and the decisions made with what funding they do have are probably questionable. The schools can't afford class sets of materials for his program, so he spends any free time during the day that he does have at the photocopier.

And that's just his job. In addition to this, he has about several other interest areas outside of work.

He is an athlete who needs to have a work out or run as part of his day.

He is a musician. He plays in one band that has regular gigs and also practices every Sunday afternoon. Besides that band, he is in high demand as a musician for just about anything that's going on in our local community. People are always asking him if he will sit in on this production, that concert, accompany this person for that event....and he always says yes.

He is a father. Although Frodo and Mini-Me don't live with us full time, HB has a full time presence in their lives. He makes getting to every hockey or basketball game a priority. He will work dropping in to just hang out with them into his schedule.

He is a Christian. He is constantly agreeing to provide service to the Christian community to which we belong, or our parish, or just to people we know in general. I have seen him come home, dead tired, come into the house only to go right back out again to help our neighbour move furniture or take care of some other chore.

And right now he's burned out. So, although he is also a husband, our marriage and the things that go along with that are not high on his list. What is high on his list is sitting on the couch and bitching about how much he has to do. And as I've said, they are all very valid complaints.

But as his wife, I feel compelled to help. To change. To fix. And yet, I know that's not what I'm called to do in this case. What I'm called to do is to listen. Just listen. Receive it, and not judge.

I'm failing at that task.

I'm so frustrated with it! Last night I couldn't help myself. I offered about four different solutions (all mine...none his) and he accepted none of them. In fact, he listed two obstacles to each solution that I offered. He got snooty with me when I offered to help with something specific. He snapped "what can you do? Go play lead guitar for me in the studio on Saturday? Teach my classes tomorrow?" which prompted me to storm up the stairs, lock myself in the bathroom and soak in the tub until my skin was wrinkled. We slept, backs turned to each other, all night.

This morning we both apologized. He acknowledged that he could have answered more politely by simply saying if he thought of anything I could help with, I'd be the first to know...and I acknowledged that the more appropriate action for me to take is to listen instead of trying to fix.

But here's the thing that I can't say to him.

His behaviour is pushing every old button that I have from my first miserable just-for-a-minute-by-mistake marriage. I feel like I'm walking right back into that house that I lived in with that asshole I made the mistake with right now. He was depressed at the end of it all as well, and would spend hours sitting on the couch just staring at the wall. I couldn't handle it, and in the end, the marriage ended. Which was not a bad thing, nor was it the reason the marriage ended, but it still pushes those buttons for me.

In fact, even though I know it's a totally unreasonable thought, I'm starting to wonder if I drive men to depression.

I'm Officially Older

2006-02-21T14:35:00.000-04:00

It's been a lovely day thus far. I don't even mind getting old on days like today.

HB woke me up this morning by placing a gift on my pillow. It was a book that I've been wanting to read, along with a beautiful card that spoke directly to my heart. With everything that has been going on in our lives, this card talked about how he recognizes everything that I do on a daily basis. Simple words that meant so much.

Then we started on a treasure find, based solely on how predictable I am in the morning. Sad statement that I am that predictable!

First, I get the paper. I open up the bag and out falls another little gift. A plate stand ... very nice.

Then I get the milk out of the fridge for my coffee. Another gift is in the fridge! It's the most beautiful Willow_Tree plaque that immediately set me off crying.

After the coffee, I head upstairs to check email before jumping into the shower. On the keyboard sits yet another book that I've been wanting.

And then when I go to take my shower, I find a gift card for a manicure and pedicure at my favourite spa.

What a morning! More important than all the gifts, because truly, I'm not so much about getting stuff, is the fact that he spent all that time thinking about me and planning this out. I am definitely feeling the love.

I spent the morning at work being taken out for coffee and then lunch. This evening my family is coming into the city and we will all go out for supper to my favourite pasta place. All 11 of us, including Frodo and Mini-Me, who actually asked to join us for my birthday.

Yep. Feeling the love. And loving the feel of it.

Back to School .... Parenting Styles 101

2006-02-18T22:01:00.000-04:00

On Tuesday I will have to change the description in my blog title line. I will turn 43. The sad thing is this will be the second time I've changed that number since I began this blog. My first entry was on August 30, 2004 and I was 41 years old. I was wide eyed and still hopeful that I might actually have a chance of conceiving and carrying a child of our own. Almost two years later, I'm really settling into a place of knowing that this will not be the case for me ... for us.

And as I've been saying more frequently of late, I'm also settling into a place of being ok with the fact that this will not be the case for me. I believe that perhaps we are being called to use every ounce of parenting that we have with Frodo and Mini-Me.

Being on the fringe of parenting through my marriage and inheritance of Frodo and Mini-Me has given me an incredible appreciation for the challenge and responsibility of the job. I can remember my mother always saying (usually in a very frustrated voice) "if there was a school I could have attended to learn how to be a parent, I would have been the first in line", and now I know how her words are so true.

Parenting is a massive responsibility. Massive.

Yesterday we went to pick the kids up at their mother's place. HB went into the house to get them while I waited in the driveway. As much as I mostly get along with Knothead, it can get just a little too cozy if I go in to the house as well ... I'll limit my coziness with her to our Saturday mornings at the rink, thank you. Anyhow, 20 minutes later I'm still sitting in the car and there's no movement toward anyone actually exiting the house to join me.

When they finally come out, Mini-Me, who wears his emotions right out there for the world to see, storms silently into the vehicle and harumphs himself into the back seat. Frodo sails out in full people-pleasing mode and promptly moves into what I call his Dory the Nemo-fish mode....flitting here, there and everywhere, forgetting what he just said and smelling suspiciously of suck-up. HB, who has spent the entire drive over lamenting to me about how he believes he is in the beginning stages of burnout at work and has no more energy for anything, joins me in the front seat and simply says "I feel like Dr. Phil....let's go home".

Apparently they were having a 'family' conference in the house, attempting to show both kids that their biological parents were united in dealing with behaviours that have been consuming everyone at both houses of late.

Here's what we're dealing with...and they're not minor things! I have casually mentioned a few times that HB is in recovery. He has been clean and sober for quite a few years now, but none the less, he is a person in recovery who has very addictive behaviours. He is highly aware of them, and is aware that these behaviours can potentially surface in one or both of the kids. He is of the mind that awareness, open discussion and truth are among the keys to healthy living.

Add to this (and I am not saying this in an accusatory way....I'm saying it as someone who has been there herself but got me some program) that Knothead is a controlling, enabling type of person who is drawn to individuals with addictive behaviours. She refuses to believe that she could benefit from any type of program because, quote, she knows more about addiction than she ever cared to learn courtesy of HB, end quote (quote courtesy of a telephone 'conversation' one day not too long ago that was so loud from her end I could hear every word while sitting clear across the room from the phone....). Her preferred method of dealing with the presence of any kind of addictive behaviour is to (a) ignore it or (b) control it through anger until you either change the person (hah!) or the behaviour 'goes away' (read goes underground here).

Then mix in two little boys trying to grow up between two very different homes, with parents who are still feeling some guilt over the dissolution of the kids' home (not about the marriage though....they're both totally over that...thank goodness), one stepmother, and Knothead's boyfriend who also spends a lot of time around the kids.

Before I get into these descriptions of their behaviours, I want to clarify that both of these little guys are amazing creatures. They both have very cool personalities, with lots of neat things going on, and are intelligent, character filled boys. But they have these behaviours that surface, making it easy to forget that this isn't who they are ... parenting skill number one: separate the child from the child's behaviour. Al-Anon lesson for life: disengage with love.

We've got Frodo, who has learned that if you lie, manipulate, cry and stomp, eventually you will get what you're asking for because you will have worn the other person down. I witnessed him slam the back door to the SUV this morning because he couldn't ride in the front seat, then look his father directly in the eye and say "I did NOT slam that door".

Frodo also refuses to sleep alone, meaning that when they are here, HB falls asleep in their room....and yesterday we find out that in fact, yes, he is attempting to disrupt his mother's sleeping pattern as well.

Frodo is also the golden child because he is the athlete, captain of the hockey team, and doesn't have to push himself much in school to get good grades. We all, including a very reluctant Mini-Me, go to the rink at least three times a week to watch his games. Schedules revolve around Frodo's athletic events. Both HB and Knothead cater to him a fair amount as they believe he was so injured during the marriage breakup. When he is caught engaging in the inappropriate behaviour and the parents finally agree that he has to receive a consequence, he turns into Dory. Most often this results in one home or another lightening up the consequence.

Then we have Mini-Me, who at 8 years old weighs almost 125 lbs. He anesthetizes with food. He lays on the couch and attempts to have you serve him breakfast in the living room while he watches television. I have witnessed this child eat three poached eggs, toast, four sausages, four strips of turkey bacon, juice and yogurt in one sitting. He's eight. He gets into basketball clothing on Friday nights and basically stands on the court, yelling, but doesn't actually run to get the ball or anything. He is a whiz at computer and video games, and sometimes chooses to spend his time in front of these instead of getting dressed, or coming up for breakfast or lunch. Recently, instead of fighting with him about it in our home, we have been trying to help him to understand that we will call him to the table once, make sure he has heard us, and then after that it's a choice he is making.

Yesterday he made such a choice, and did not come to the table for the lunch that was prepared. We stuck to our guns, letting him know that he had made a choice, and that there would be no more food until supper. We left for the rink. HB and I were sitting beside Knothead. Mini-Me launched into the "I want a piece of pizza" dance the minute our arses hit the bench to watch the game. This is a very public dance that begins with a slow beat, much like a single drop of rain on your forehead, and builds to a torrential downpour, including real tears. The background beat includes a chorus of "you never feed me! you promised I could have a treat!" with a constant harmony of "but I'm staaaaaaaaaaaarving" for good measure.

I assured his mother that we were, indeed, only feeding him twigs, branches and berries here with an occasional glass of water if he looked parched. She jokingly threatens to report me to social services before recalling that I am social services.

Parenting skill number two: be able to withstand public humiliation when your child's addictive behaviour becomes public. Al-Anon lesson for life: disengage with love.

It would be so easy to give in and get him a piece of pizza. Or continue to stay with Dory while he's falling asleep. In the moment, that makes life in our home easy. But my mind boggles at the ramification that those seemingly minor actions in the moment will have for each child's future.

I get what my mother was saying now. I totally get it. I think that HB and I are lucky in that we have had some 'schooling' through our programs. But holy cow, it's a rough ride and frankly, I'm exhausted. At least we get to split this 50/50 through the week. I'm going to be 43 on Tuesday. I do believe that, even though any child of mine would be perfect and totally well adjusted, I'm too old to start from scratch with a new one.

Size does matter

2006-02-17T08:44:00.000-04:00

I jumped on the bandwagon. I love it. Looking at it makes me think of how things, events, people, and moods move in and out of our lives ... having more significance on some days than others. I look at the big words in this cloud. I see some that I want to make smaller, and others that I just want to keep growing bigger and bigger and bigger. I also know that my cloud is different today than it was a year ago. If I'm still blogging one year from now, I hope to be able to create another cloud then to see how my priorities will have changed. Very cool.

The blind can see....

2006-02-14T20:06:00.000-04:00

Are you tired of hearing about my dawg yet?

Hope not. Because it looks like he's sticking around for a while! The treatment that our wonderful, magnificent, astounding vet started him on last evening is working. My awesome husband took today off to stay home and give him the medication on the rigorous schedule (every two hours), and it's working!

How do I know?

Well, first of all the doctor told my husband at the follow up visit this morning. Secondly, he ran to the fence when I pulled into the yard, as he always does, and it was evident that he was actually seeing me instead of just responding to my voice.

But the full proof was watching the big guy try to get himself a little Valentine's lurving from Sheba this evening! Yep, my boy is back in the saddle.

Now if only I could find a doctor as awesome as our vet.

Dawg Update #1

2006-02-13T15:57:00.000-04:00

The news she may not be so good.

The vet says that there is a blood build up in the eyes, so much so that she's concerned he has detached the retina. She cannot get a read on it with the instruments she has here, and there is no opthamologist in our province. She was going to run basic labs on him this afternoon and then call over to the university in a neighbouring province, where there is a specialist, to discuss treatment options.

She thinks it may have been caused by high blood pressure. When she described the signals, I recognized them as recent behaviours. Increased panting...restlessness at night....we wrote them off to his ears bugging him. He's had goop in his ears that bad that we've had to clean them out almost every night. Damn! I should have taken him in to have her do them weeks ago! Perhaps she would have caught this.

Part of our issue here is that we don't even truly know how old he is. He was a rescue from the SPCA shelter in December 2000, at which time they said he was about two and a half years old. My vet, however, placed him at maybe just a year old. Either way, he's in getting up there for a giant breed.

So now we wait.

Cateracts & Avoidance

2006-02-12T11:42:00.000-04:00

I feel like I've been on a downer in my posts of late. I don't know about anyone else, but this blog has saved my butt more times than enough. I come here, get out all the garbage, feel heard (if even only by myself), and then can move on.

The "fight" that HB and I had the other night is probably laughable by most people's standards. We were talking about it yesterday. Our lives together are so good, and we have become so accustomed to having serenity and joy, accompanied by a good dose of massively awesome communication on a daily basis, that even the slightest disagreement feels like a huge fight to us!

That said, it was important that he hear and acknowledge what I was feeling, though. One of the things that I love so much about this man is that once he hears what I'm saying, it's acted upon. I truly am blessed to have a partner like him. Truly. And I do know it, although it may not always reflect in my ranting here. But hey, if I painted him as totally perfect, we'd have to treat this book as a work of fiction. A perfect man? Come on!

We're having a snowstorm here today. Not a bad thing considering that I have, once again, left all of my readings and assignments for both courses until today. So having limited options outside of the house may help. Moving away from this computer may also help.

Now for the downer part of the post:

My beautiful dawg, Barkley (he's the big one on the left), is in a bad way today. His eyes are going. We really noticed it this morning for the first time ... and I can't understand how it came on so quickly. He's been getting the cloudy forewarning sign of cateracts for some time now, but our vet didn't seem to think we needed to worry about it too much. This morning, however, it's as if he's lost his sight. There is a definite film mounting on his left eye. HB took him for a walk and had to bring him back because he kept walking into things. It's Sunday so of course the vet isn't open, but I'm getting on the phone first thing in the morning to take him in to her. He is a clinic favourite and they always respond quickly when we call with an urgent matter related to him.

We have been putting money aside to buy a new bedroom set and redo our master bedroom. I told HB this morning that I'd rather have my dog alive than a bedroom set. One more thing that I love about this man? He totally agreed. So we're putting those funds aside to deal with any necessary surgery costs for our big guy. He's absolutely healthy in every other way, which for a giant breed his age is remarkable. Going without a bedroom set and new curtains is a small price to pay for the love we get in return from this amazing animal.

I know in the context of world problems, and infertility, and all the other sadness that's out there, a dog's health may seem inconsequential. But to me right now, this dawg is my baby. I know that others who firmly place their 'pets' in that category can understand what I'm saying.

One slightly used husband to give away....

2006-02-05T08:37:00.000-04:00

You guys are great ... I really appreciate the supportive comments about my brother's death. I have to say that this particular anniversary hit me harder than most of them have for some reason. I've been very focused on mortality of late. It's all a bit morbid really, but I guess it's to be expected as we get older.

And on top of being morbid....I'm quite cranky these days. HB and I just had a fight. Well, what passes as a fight for us. We're very polite with each other actually. I'm pissed at him, and his kids. Yes I said his kids.

We are all way too busy. This life is ripping past us at warp speed. HB is physically incapable, I believe, of saying no to anyone who asks him to do something. Plus he really does need to work out on a regular basis or he gets cranky and tired. The one that he is most incapable of saying no to is Frodo, and that is causing some real problems between us.

He has so much on his plate right now and won't stop saying yes to things. Actually, he had to bow out of our "fight" before it was resolved because he had said yes to our neighbour's request to help move some furniture.

Anyhow, we always have Frodo and Mini-Me on Wednesday nights. In all the years we've been doing that, HB has never gone out to tae kwan do on that night. But last night, when I asked what his plans were for the evening ... really only making conversation so sure was I that the answer was "hanging out here with the kids" ... he surprised me by saying that he was taking Frodo to an 8:30 p.m. tae kwan do class.

Danger Wil Roger...danger! First of all, Frodo is 10 years old and this is a school night. Secondly, Frodo has this brother called Mini-Me who does not go to tae kwan do, is 8 years old and also has school the next day. Thirdly (but obviously least important) there's the wicked step-munster (that would be me) who has been working her ass off in this masters program and had planned to closet herself in the upstairs bedroom to study while HB hung out with his kids.

Silly ass me for making plans! Instead, I got to stay home with the 8 year old, who of course was not going to go to bed before his brother and father got home because that would just be unfair. Now his father had said to just leave him in the living room watching tv while I did my studying. I couldn't do it ... mostly because he would surf and watch every inappropriate show he could find but also because it just didn't seem right to leave an 8 year old, you know, sitting alone in the living room until 10 p.m. on a school night!!!!!

They arrived home at 10 p.m. and I just went upstairs without saying a word. I got up this morning and left before the craziness of tired, cranky kids responding to a tired, cranky father got going.

When I got home today, there's a message from one of HB's bandmates saying they picked up a gig for next Friday night. When I mentioned the message, HB responded with "yeah...he got me on my cell. I told him I'd do it". Now, it's important to note that HB also has a standing meeting on Saturdays that keeps him tied up from about 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. On the weekends that the kids are here, I hang out with them (read "no school work gets done by Sandy on Saturdays" here) and get the pleasure of taking Frodo to his hockey game where I get the further pleasure of sitting with their mother for an hour.

Silly ass me again ... having the nerve to point out that we have the kids that weekend, and then to inquire as to whether he had factored that into his decision.

His response? "I'll get my mother to come stay with them here for a few hours. I don't want the kids to become a resentment to you."

WTF??? That pushed every guilt button I have! But somewhere today I must have found a spine because I didn't pull my usual back down and give in behaviour. And thus the "fight". I had to explain to him that it wasn't the kids that were becoming a resentment to me...it was his assumption that I was their babysitter and that he could just do what he wanted when they were here. I also pointed out that I was pretty sure, as cool as I am and all, that it wasn't me that the kids came here to see on those weekends. And finally, I pointed out that I'm already having to deal with the guilt of being here on the occasional day when his mother arrives to clean our house (which we pay her to do ... it was the only way we could get her to take the money she needed to make her monthly car payment after she lost her little job she had) and that I sure as hell was not going to sit here in my own home, trying to study through the guilt of having my mother in law come babysit the kids.

I'm really feeling at the end of a number of ropes here tonight. Truly. The end of a few ropes. Ever tried to walk on egg shells while carrying the end of your rope?

In memory of Tim ~ 1957-1999

2006-01-28T08:51:00.000-04:00

On January 29, 1999, I flew into Chicago to attend a conference for work. Being from a relatively small city in eastern Canada, Chicago was a whole new experience for me. I was travelling with one colleague whom I was looking forward to sharing the trip with, and remember feeling like I had the world by the tail. I had been on a very successful weight loss journey since the previous August and had already lost almost 50 lbs. I felt like one of those Ally McBeal types - with my cute little outfits and ability to fit nicely into the plane seats and all. I had a great new assignment and exciting opportunities lay ahead of me. This was the first of many planned excursions with this new job.

We checked into our hotel, which was located on the "magnificent mile" in the downtown area. I can recall getting a kink in my neck and worrying that I was going to get pigeon poop in my mouth if I didn't stop staring upward, gawking with my mouth hanging open!

I moved through the conference sessions, listening, taking notes, meeting people from all around the USA and enjoying my odd status as an "international visitor", being all the way from Canada and all, you know. I was having a great time. On January 30th, I made arrangements with some new friends from California to join them at a taping of the Oprah Winfrey show - we were hoping to attend a show on the Monday or Tuesday of the conference. Then I met up with other new friends who actually lived in Chicago for supper. We went to a local bar in their neighbourhood where I watched my friend's son and daughter kid each other - dancing and hanging out in that very cool brother and sister way. I remember telling them how they reminded me of a time when my brother, Tim, lived with me and we used to hang out together like that - and how lucky they were to have such a great friendship with each other. They laughed and shrugged it off ... the way you do when you're with your sibling.

And then on January 31st, I watched as those in attendance at the conference successfully petitioned the organizers to cancel the afternoon sessions so that they could gather in various rooms and the hotel bar for a Superbowl party. My colleague and I joined our new friends in the bar, experiencing Bud Girls and giveaways, but most importantly, the Superbowl commercials!!!

I went back to my room, feeling very cosmopolitan and grown up. Tucked my prizes and purse away, and crawled into bed. I woke up very early the next morning to a ringing phone. The phone call that would change my life forever.

It was my secretary at work - an incredible woman who had become a good friend. All she said was "you have to call your parents. If you want, call me back after you speak to them".

I pulled my cell phone out of my purse to make the call home, and saw that I had missed 28 calls the night before. The noise in the bar had been such that I hadn't heard the phone ring once.

I knew something was very very wrong. I called my parents' number, and when my father heard my voice, he started to cry. My mother picked up the other line and started to cry as well.

They managed to get out the words "oh Sandy...it's about Tim".

And I knew.

My only brother was dead. He had committed suicide.

His wife and daughter had been away, visiting her family for the weekend. They came home on Sunday. Their daughter raced into the house and up the stairs - excited to see her dad again. She was the one who found him, lying in his bed, dead. The autopsy revealed that he had most likely died on Saturday. I can't even begin to imagine the horror that little 8 year old girl went through - finding her father like that.

I have always avoided describing how he killed himself. The recent media coverage of the mother who assisted her son to commit suicide, however, has brought the horror of Tim's chosen method back to me. He used the same method with which this young man chose to end his life.

I have been a certified teacher of suicide intervention since 1986. I had long ago dealt with my own feelings about the right of choice, and had helped countless others recognize that their feelings about suicide directly impacted their ability to be effective as someone who would intervene with a suicidal person. All the skill in the world couldn't help me to intervene with my own brother.

For a long time, I raged against this man and his book. We found a copy of the book in my brother's home after his death. It had been opened to the page that described his chosen method so often that, when it was found, the crack in the spine made the book open naturally to that page.

I don't know what the purpose of writing about this today is ... except that Monday, January 30th is the 7th anniversary of the date that Tim chose to kill himself. The ongoing debates about assisted suicide and the right to choose have been keeping his method of death first and foremost in my mind.

I've watched my parents age dramatically in the last seven years, most of it in the first two years after his death. I've watched my niece that found him struggle with her life and her emotions. I've watched his other daughter, who lived with HB and I for a year, just recently begin to say her dad's name again and be able to look at pictures of him.

I hate that Tim never got to meet my incredible husband. I'm pissed off and angry at my big brother that he chose to leave my world before I was ready for him to be gone. I'm angry with myself at how busy I've allowed myself to become .... too busy to see my aging parents and my one remaining sister on any kind of regular basis ... knowing that the day is coming very soon when one of us will once again be racked with guilt and regret that we didn't make that one hour trip to spend time with each other. I've been having regular thoughts about death again - feeling that very soon we will experience another death in our family.

HB's brother, who is an active alcoholic and drug addict, but who is also receiving dialysis three times a week, was admitted to ICU this week. This is the brother that HB used to hang out and use with when he was practicing. For many reasons, HB has had to choose to put distance and space between them. HB's been clean and sober for quite a few years now, and is grappling with what he is meant to do in this situation. He has forgiven his brother in his heart, and has accepted responsibility for his actions in the situation ... but he's never had a conversation with his brother, who is still actively using, about all of it.

I'm just feeling overwhelmed today. I miss my brother. I love you Tim.

Heart and Soul

2006-01-22T20:52:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all the confirmation to my last post. I managed to survive this last period - both the period of time and the period itself. Actually I did more than just survive. I actually accomplished some stuff.

First, I had dinner with a classmate whom I had not seen for 22 years. How is it possible that I have college classmates from 22 years ago? I'm far too young for that! Actually we do laugh about it as I was the pup of the class. I turned 20 that year, and almost had a meltdown because I no longer had "teen" in my age.

This guy is amazing. He and his partner were the first gay men in their province to legally adopt a child. I read about the strength of the couples who are choosing adoption all the time, but hadn't completely thought through what the ramifications for a family such as his would be in adoption. And they didn't make it easy - they have created a bi-racial, same sex parent family! I left that dinner feeling in awe of what my former classmate is accomplishing with his life. He is a trailblazer, and his children are lucky to have him as their dad.

Secondly, I have now successfully completed my second lessons in the master's program. I've accomplished all the readings and managed to get all my assignments in on time. I've had a few flutters of confidence. I had to have HB sit and read my first assignment before I hit send. He's so amazingly supportive. Made no matter to him that he had no clue about the subject matter and I restricted his commenting to my grasp of the subject matter.

I spent yesterday morning with Frodo and Mini-Me while HB was at a meeting. These Saturday mornings are turning into our time together, and we're getting to redefine our relationship in a majorly cool way. Frodo had a hockey game so I got to spend some time with their mother as well ... not my favourite thing but it actually turned out alright. I stroked her motherhood ego for a bit, but couldn't help but do a teensy bit of internal gloating when Mini-Me stayed seated beside me instead of her for the whole game.

Last night I reconnected with some girlfriends for dinner. There was a time when we would see each other on almost a daily basis but have been totally neglectful of those friendships in the last year or so. We corrected that last night. We rented hotel rooms, went to dinner theatre together and then went back to the hotel for drinks and chats. Long overdue.

I'm taking care of my heart and my soul this week. It feels great. And I may actually have a life that doesn't necessarily rely on being a biological mother. Who would have thought it?

Tomorrow is election day here in Canada. I'm terrified that we are going to swing to the right tomorrow and lose all the hard won battles about freedoms that have been won in this country. I have to cast my vote very first thing in the morning before I hit the road for the rest of the week again. There's too much at stake tomorrow. Way too much. So if you're Canadian, get out and exercise your right tomorrow as well.

Oh...and send some good thoughts to Julianna this week. She is mustering the courage of a lion on Monday and she needs the lionesses gathered round her.

The Lioness Needs Courage

2006-01-14T09:06:00.000-04:00

Ollie voiced what I'm sometimes afraid to say out loud. Go ahead and read it. I'll wait.

Ok, so it wasn't that I'm afraid to talk about Robert Plant being a geek out loud. I said that many times.

But that last paragraph? The one where she asks whether she really wants to be a mother anymore? Yep. There it is.

My period is starting today. And I feel a bit relieved. I got a sick feeling in my stomach just even typing those words. It's like I'm being totally disloyal to all my infertile sisters. In fact, to all women in the world. It's like by saying that out loud I'm accepting that it's never going to happen for me.

In 38 days, I will be 43 years of age. I am quite set in my ways. I like my house to be kept in an ordered fashion. I like to go out for dinner when I want to, and to a restaurant of my choosing - not just one that has high chairs. I like to have big dawgs that can drool all over me and romp through my house without worrying that they're creating an unsanitary environment. I like to be able to accept interesting assignments at work that can sometimes take me away for days and weeks at a time. I like to travel to Cuba and get a glorious tan while laying on the beach. I like to lay in bed on Saturdays sometimes and just read a book.

I am quite set in my ways. And I'm selfish. I'm not convinced I want to give up any of these things.

And yet I know I would in an instant if I found myself pregnant. I've already proven that to myself during those times that I have been pregnant. I've just never had to actually live out my brave words of conviction since I've never managed to bring any of those babies, you know, home from the hospital with me.

It's such an uncomfortable place to be - half of me still hoping, wishing and praying for a baby. The other half of me hoping, wishing and praying that I'm moving on.

____________________________________________________________________

And by the way .... I hear that it is (or maybe even was) delurking week. I see all kinds of visitors in my stats, and wonder if you might take a moment to introduce yourself. I'm particularly interested in meeting my fellow Canadians - especially my visitors from right here in the province. This is not a beg for comments ... I'm a big believer that people comment when they feel moved to do so, and I, for one, didn't start this blog to get comments. I started it to maintain my sanity on this journey.

Edited to add: Wow! I just realized how rude that sounded "particularly interested in meeting my fellow Canadians" after reading Cricket's comment that she wasn't Canadian! I sure didn't mean to limit myself to only meeting the Canucks that may read here ... sorry about that! I swear. The Pamprin has gone to my head.

From monster to mom

2006-01-07T16:08:00.000-04:00

I've been having the most amazing day. The. Most. Amazing.

HB has a commitment that takes him out of the house every Saturday morning for a few hours, and will continue to do so until the middle of March. We discussed it before he accepted, and decided that I would make myself available to be with Frodo and Mini-Me on those mornings, rather than leaving it up to HB and the kids' mother to handle. We've finally learned that if we involve her in these things, our lives become way too complicated.

Anyhow, my point is that this decision has been one of the best gifts I could have given to myself and the kids. We've been having time to spend together, and we're developing our own little relationship now ... which is kind of neat.

So today Frodo had an 11 a.m. hockey game. This means that they need to have a good breakfast, beds need to be made, showers taken, hockey geared packed, teeth brushed, and warm clothes put on ... all in time for us to be out of the house by about 10:15 at the latest. Shouldn't be too hard a chore except that we're all procrastinators, and inevitably we end up cramped for time at the end ... with the house exit being very hurried and frazzled. This morning, they both did everything after one request. And with no whining or fighting. We left the house at 10:10 a.m. ... a record!!!

The other thing that was going on was that the team was hosting a bottle drive right after the game. HB was going to meet us at the rink after his meeting to take Frodo to the bottle drive.

Mini Me decided that he was going to pass on the bottle drive and hang out with me at home. Now I suspect that his true motivation was a completely uninterrupted afternoon of solo time on the PSII, but hey, I take my strokes where I can get them - so hang out with me it was going to be!

We went for lunch with HB and Frodo, and then started to head home. Our plans got completely turned around, and instead of an afternoon at home, we ended up spending most of it in the car together, driving around delivering stuff to either HB, or meeting up with their mother to pick stuff up. He was fine with that - and consequently we ended up in a place where we were gabbing away with each other in the vehicle.

And somehow that gab turned to a conversation about the band Kiss. Don't even ask me how we got there...but get there we did. And here's where the day gets amazing.

I casually mentioned that "way back in the '70s when they were really popular, I went to a Kiss concert".

His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. And then he said, "can I use your cell phone?".

He called his best friend, Joey. And then I heard:

"Joey? Yeah. It's Mini-Me. Guess what? My step-MOM (wow!!!) says that Kiss used to be really popular waaaaaaaaaaaay back in the 70s. And guess what else? SHE SAW THEM IN CONCERT! How cool is she???"

I almost had to pull the car over. From stepmonster to stepmom with a 'cool' thrown in ... all in 30 seconds.

Yeah. They're worth it.

Trying to focus...

2006-01-05T16:18:00.000-04:00

I'm back at work today after having 14 straight days where I wasn't involved with anything even remotely work related. Consequently, I've had a hard time refocusing today. I've not accomplished much worth mentioning or worth my paycheque, to be honest. Instead, I've been sitting here in my little cube, bouncing random thoughts and realizations around in my head.

My course materials arrived today. I start both classes on Monday. This program is conducted mostly on-line, with what they call "intensives" at the end of each semester. The intensives are two and a half days long. The course material is all reviewed and then the final exam or assignment carried out. I spent a good chunk of the day reviewing the materials and getting both excited and freaked out. The one course excites me and looks like it's filled with material I'm comfortable with ... and even have some expertise in. The other course completely freaks me out. It's all about financial administration and accountability.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......but a necessary evil. Better to get it out of the way now I guess. I'm reserving the economics course for a few semesters away.

I wonder if I will have the discipline to move through this program and actually complete it. I have a lot riding on this opportunity. But me and computers? I seem to have a form of ADD when it comes to being in front of the computer. I sit down with all good intentions to work, write, research, whatever. Then I think that perhaps I should just check a blog or two....or play just one game of Snood...or my current favourite...Bounce Out. The next thing I know it's after midnight and my work is still sitting undone.

This will not be an option any more. I really do need to get disciplined about it. But I have always worked best under pressure. I can pull off the most amazing pieces of work in one night. I just don't understand why I put that kind of pressure on myself.

Driving to work this morning, I learned of this story. I wanted to throw up. Or cry. The radio announcer, who is usually pretty upbeat, went on about all the people in the world living with infertility, or looking to adopt, and how these animals were allowed to have children. True words...sadly.

I've been moving through the month not really thinking about conceiving or trying, or temping, or anything. It was just over a year ago that I started clomid, and had a positive test on the 10th of January. I presented the test to HB as his 40th birthday gift. He was cautiously delighted, and obviously, I still owe him a present for his 40th birthday. Double damn.

I actually had to look at my blank chart this month to see where I was in my cycle. I guess that's a good thing, right?

2005-12-29T12:39:00.000-04:00

The new year is almost upon us. I'm not one of those who feels compelled to make resolutions for change in a new year. Anymore, that is. But I do find that this time of year encourages me to engage in reflection.

Lately I have been reflecting on how grateful I am to have the life I live today. For years I journalled, and although I have since thrown those journals out, I often reread entries to the point that they are still etched into my memory. Those entries were most often filled with anger, frustration, pain and emptiness at how disappointed I had allowed others to make me. One of the reasons I have been engaged in this reflection is that I am realizing how completely happy I am in my relationship with HB. He has always said we could have fun in a ditch together....and it's true. He's just so easy to be with - it's not work. In the past, it was always work, and I allowed my happiness to be fully reliant upon another person. Not so much anymore, and HB often tells me that he is having the exact same experience. We just bring about the best in each other, and are happy to see growth, energy, interests, and activities in the other person's life. Holy cow ... we almost sound healthy!

I had a whole post composed that focused on Knothead and her manipulation of the last while. She is a highly negative person who thrives on drama and misery. I erased the seven paragraphs I had written about her and her recent hijinks because I realized that all I was doing was taking her inventory. Instead, I am choosing to focus on the happiness that I experience in my life today, and how grateful I am that I no longer require the drama and hijinks in my life to feel alive.

I am so grateful that I have experienced enough happiness and health to understand that the only person I can change at all is myself. I'm delighted with my husband. I feel no need to change him - well, except maybe the way he piles belongings on every flat surface in our home, but that's not really changing him now is it?

I may not be able to experience being a mom through my own biological child, but I have begun to experience the joys and trials of being a mom through Frodo and Mini-Me. As a matter of fact, Mini-Me and I had a bit of a set-to yesterday that resulted in an actual consequence, and yet today it was like nothing at all had happened. That's major progress for us. A year ago, that would have been good for at least three days of ignoring me. I'm grateful for that progress. I'm grateful for those two guys and their presence in my life.

My mother recently turned 75. I'm so grateful that both my parents are still here to enjoy life with me. My father absolutely adores HB. When they get together, it's like watching two little boys play. HB brings out the best in my father. I hear my dad laugh in ways that I haven't heard in years when we're together. They call each other just to say hi. I love that.

So ... although 2005 didn't yield me some of the things I wanted, I'm still pretty damn lucky. No resolutions for 2006, although I am still working on those next 20 lbs being gone and I want to learn to kayak this year. No resolutions - but I do absolutely plan to remain happy, healthy and engaged in bringing out the best in the love of my life.

Happy New Year ~ may 2006 bring out the best in you.

My Christmas Wishes

2005-12-24T11:59:00.000-04:00

It's Christmas Eve. We have everything ready for our holiday celebrations. Although HB and I have only been together five short years, we've already established some strong tradition and practice that we both love during this time of the year.

The one practice that I love the most is our mutual refusal to get stressed out at this time of the year. The first year we were together, the kids' mother started to make a fuss about when the kids would see HB. She has a lot of family tradition that is important to her, and that involves the kids. We gave on that one immediately. It's more important to us that we're relaxed and able to enjoy the kids than it is to see them on the actual December 25th date. To us, that's only one short day of this marvelous season!

So HB will go see them for an hour or so this afternoon before he comes home to me. We play guitar and sing at an early mass celebration at the parish I've gone to for years, and then we'll go visit some friends who have an annual Christmas Eve open house. This year, we're adding Midnight Mass to the mix ... we want to just go and "be" at a Christmas Mass in addition to the one we sing at every year. After that mass, we've been invited to a traditional Cape Breton Christmas Eve party that goes on all night long! We'll drop in there for a little bit, before heading home to get some sleep. We've both been sick with colds that are threatening to knock the best out of us if we're not careful.

Tomorrow morning, we'll get up when we get up. We'll open our gifts from each other, and our stockings. We'll have some breakfast, and then we'll load the car up for the one hour drive to my parents' place. We'll have a full day of music, family, food and gifts there with my side of the family. My father absolutely adores my husband, so it's always lots of fun to get together with them.

On Boxing Day, the kids will arrive for three days with us. We have all their gifts under the tree where Santa has left them on Christmas Eve ... Santa also fills a stocking for them at this house too! The grandparents (my parents and HB's mom) all arrive, along with HB's sister, her son and various other friends and cohorts throughout the day. We cook another full dinner and enjoy the company of friends and family for another celebration. Inevitably the guitars and mandolin get broken out, and a good old kitchen party takes place.

We like it. The kids are not driven from house to house and family to family. They are much more manageable in terms of their excitement, and we all get to enjoy each other over a period of days, rather than trying to cram everything into one day.

I have lots of Christmas wishes this year ... and I will leave you with my Christmas wish list.

That Cecily will continue to have a healthy pregnancy that results in a little person filled with all the awesome characteristics of both she and Charlie ... imagine the beauty of that baby;
That Olivia will experience pain free days and be discovered by the rest of the world as the amazing artist that she has shown us to be;
That Tiffani's home visit brings about exactly the results she wants;
That Julianna gets that regular experience of lightness and laughter again that she has asked for;
That Sara will continue to experience the honeymoon happiness she's currently living;
That everyone on this list gets a moment of peace on this hellish journey of infertility.

I'd be lying if I didn't add myself to the list. I'm continuing to wish for the acceptance of what is to be for me in my life - as a stepmother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, employee, student (did I mention that I got accepted to the Master's program for which I had applied???), and if it's to be, as a biological mother. I wish for acceptance and strength.

Merry Christmas.

Since you asked

2005-12-18T08:22:00.000-04:00

Thalia asked in the last comments why HB and I have chosen not to pursue ART or adoption. I've sent her this response in an email, but then thought I'd post here as well. I've addressed it once or twice through my blog, but usually in snippets, given that I tend to blog as I think. Wouldn't it be scarey to be in my mind?

The reasons are seemingly simple to me, but probably are more complicated at the root. This is a second marriage for both HB and I...and although my first one was only for a minute by mistake, I was involved with the fertility clinic at that time as well.

I had unsuccessful treatments there over the two years that we were involved. I sometimes believe that I tried to play God in my first marriage with all the treatments I underwent trying to conceive. I was so focused on getting pregnant, and having all the trappings that went along with being married ~ trying to force something that wasn't there and was never going to be there ~ that I lost focus on the reality that there would be a child brought into the world should I successfully conceive.

It was an awful marriage to an awful man that ended abruptly before the third anniversary. At the time people were saying "thank God you didn't have children with him". All I could think was "now I'll never have children".

It took me a while to think about it this way, but in hindsight, I believe that God protected me from having children with that man. This prevented another child from being damaged by him. He had two children from a previous marriage that he never saw or even spoke to on the telephone. They were lovely people, but I know that one has been in constant therapy, and the second cannot sustain relationships of any kind now.

All of my treatments and tests at that time indicated that there was no scientific or physical reason I shouldn't be able to conceive.

Four years later I met HB, and finally understood what true love, respect and relationships were all about. And we conceived for the first time in our first year together.

Now here's where the decisions regarding choice of treatment come into play. Every time I have conceived with HB, it's been naturally and without any assistance from medication or treatment.

HB and I both believe that the God of our understanding brought us together and saved our lives. That's a very long story that I won't bore you with right now, largely because it's not all my story to tell. Suffice to say that we have had many examples of direct guidance from the God of our understanding in our lives since we've learned to shut up and listen!

Because of what we've seen happen due to that belief, we've chosen to believe that God has a plan for us around our family and children. Although some might say that we were hypocritical by going for some assistance through the clinic, we aren't above helping out a bit again by accepting medical assistance. We strongly believe that we would be great parents.

We thought long and hard about even going into the clinic for medicated help to conceive this time (one year ago) but were glad that we did. However, before we went in, we had decided that we would not do anything more invasive than medication. I'm going to be 43 in February. We already have two boys through HB and although they're not mine biologically, they're mine from a loved perspective (most days...unless they're little terrors...then I blame that entirely on their mother's gene pool...hehehe). Add to that reality that I became obsessed with trying to conceive and carry before ... we did not want this to become the only focus of our relationship.

So that's why for us, we've made the decision not to pursue ART. As for adoption, it's not about having a family for us ... we have one already with Frodo and Mini-Me. It is about us having a biological child together. I have the greatest respect for adoption. My only brother was adopted into our family, and I'm eternally grateful for his presence in my life.

Sometimes I wonder if there's not something huge going to happen in our lives around the two boys and we'll end up with them here full time.....something that's not totally out of the question!

Having said all of that, should I conceive again naturally, we will be accepting every form of medical treatment possible to help keep the child to full term.

I have learned, through the many blogs that I read, how very personal the decisions required to build a family are for people. Our decisions may not make sense to others, but they work for us. I've had to learn to quiet the voices from the world and listen to the voice in my heart. Had I listened to that voice years ago, I would never have entered that first sham of a marriage, nor would I have done a million other things. I work hard today to listen to the voice within, and to make the kind of decisions it calls me to make daily. HB and I found a little ceramic sign that simply says "Follow Your Heart". It hangs at the bottom of our stairs, so it's the first thing we see when we come down the stairs in the morning.

These decisions feel right. Feels like I'm following my heart.

Your Will Be Done

2005-12-14T14:14:00.000-04:00

I have hung up my basal thermometer.

I have stopped waking precisely at 6:00 a.m. to take my temperature.

Does this mean I've stopped trying to conceive? I don't know. Perhaps.

I do know that I feel as if I've chosen to stop obsessing over whether or not my temperature staying high at the end of each month could possibly mean we've accomplished what seems to be the impossible.

I know not everyone that reads here is a Christian, but HB and I have a strong belief in and relationship with the God of our understandings. I have prayed many many times in the last year about our infertility journey.

At first I would pray to be able to conceive.

Then I moved onto being very specific with the wording of my prayer. I would specifically ask to be able to get pregnant with a baby that I would carry to full term. Then I moved even more boldly to full term with a safe delivery. And then, brazen hussy that I am, I began to ask for full term, with a safe delivery, and that the baby would be healthy.

Nothing.

Lately I've just been praying that I be able to recognize and accept God's will for us around parenting.

I was home for a very short time this weekend. On Sunday it became evident that we had not managed to conceive again this month. On Monday morning, I put the themometer away in the bathroom cabinet and came back into the bedroom. I told HB what I had done. He just smiled and hugged me.

I love that man so much. Maybe I'm not meant to carry his baby to a full term safe delivery. Maybe God's will for us is that we are to continue to be each others' best friends, parent Frodo and Mini-Me, rescue and return stray dawgs to their owners, and travel through the rest of this life together.

I could accept that. Your will be done.

Reunited and it feels so good

2005-12-10T08:21:00.000-04:00

I'm home for another weekend with a list of a bazillion things to do. We're not huge present givers but do like to do stockings up for each other. I got some very cool things at some of the industries I'm reviewing for HB's stocking ... it will be fun to watch him open some of these little gifts!

He had to play last night at a local bar. We went down and did the sound check together. I've become the band ear for sound check. Normally I love this job, but yesterday I was dead tired from having been on the road all week, and none of the guys showed up at the same time! So we spent two hours, levelling each one of the guys to HB. Lots of fun.

I then drove home to feed the dawgs. We were having a bit of snow so the driving wasn't a big whack of fun ... but nothing compared to the fun coming home at 1 a.m. after 6 hours of snow and rain had descended!

On the drive home, we almost ran over this beautiful boxer dawg who was running loose up the middle of a busy four lane road.

Guess who slept at the foot of our bed last night?

So this morning will be spent hanging posters, visiting vet clinics and trying to find this beautiful guy's home. He is very well trained and loved, so his family must be frantic this morning. I'm looking forward to reuniting them!

Then I'm looking forward to a little reunion of my own this afternoon if you catch my drift ...

Busy is as busy does

2005-12-04T07:40:00.000-04:00

I'm just home for the weekend and trying to cram as much into it as possible. We have been:

shopping
wreath and bough gathering and decorating
Christmas light hangers
Christmas ornament unpackers and putter-outers (yes, it's a word in my world)
up to my parents' place (an hour away) for a visit and out to a surprise dinner for my mom's 75th birthday
to a dance for which only 15 or so folks showed up despite the fact that about 200 were expected

and that was just yesterday! I don't know how people who travel for a living all the time do it! I suppose you get used to it, but HB and I are just drinking each other in on these two short days together. Today we will go to mass, finish decorating the front deck, he'll head to band practice while I head into the office for a minute and then off to meet some girlfriends for an annual Christmas gathering before I head out again tonight for another week.

Yesterday HB told me that he had pretty much given up on us having a child. I asked him if he thought I was silly for continuing to take my temperature every morning. He said "you need to do what you need to do until you hit some level of peace with where it is we might land".

How true. How true.